


Zombie Horror Hordes

by SeeThemFlying



Series: The Ice Cream Anthology [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Shaun of the Dead AU, Slow Burn, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, but not jc friendly, comedy and angst, jc are in a relationship, jc are not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 47,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21761821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Even though Brienne Tarth is hopelessly, deeply, madly, completely in love with her best friend Jaime Lannister, she has just never quite found the right time to tell him.Mostly because he has a girlfriend...And that he's totally out of Brienne's league...And... oh yeah... the Zombie Apocalypse is happening...Will Brienne ever find the courage to say three little words?The Braime Shaun of the Dead AU that no one asked for but I felt compelled to write.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: The Ice Cream Anthology [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1440058
Comments: 522
Kudos: 203





	1. Flatmates

**Author's Note:**

> Wooo! Okay, I've had this one brewing for what feels like twenty seven years (longer than I've been alive), so I hope you enjoy it! I have mixed up the dynamics from the original Shaun of the Dead because it was going to be too much like "Run, Fat Knight, Run", but I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If you are interested, I have already written two short prequels for this story in my "Many Flavours of Ice Cream". In chronological order, they are Chapter 18 "Mistletoe and Wine" and the last part of Chapter 14 "The Multi-Dimension Pink Mini Cooper". They'll give you a little context, but are not a requirement :)

"It's really easy, Brienne," said Sansa as they stood in their kitchen one evening just drinking tea, "really, _really_ easy."

Considering the situation, Brienne thought there was only one appropriate use of the word really and that was that Sansa _really_ was blind to reality sometimes. In light of her obliviousness, Brienne just looked at her friend sullenly. "No it's not _easy,_ Sansa. It's anything but easy."

Putting her cup down, Sansa gave Brienne a big smile. "Look, I'll show you how to do it," she said, before reaching up and grabbing Brienne's chin with her fingers. As she started to talk in a silly high-pitched voice, Sansa moved Brienne's mouth along with her words, like the two of them were a ventriloquist and her overgrown puppet. " _Jaime,_ _I've got something very important to tell you. Ever since we first met, I've been totally in love with you and would really like to get into your pants. So, please can we be boyfriend and girlfriend, get married and have lots of sex and babies, and then will you let me wheel you around in your wheelchair at our old people's home? Lots of love, Brienne."_

Batting Sansa's hand away, Brienne rolled her eyes. "I haven't been totally in love with him since the beginning. I thought he was a complete tit when we first met."

"Still, my point still stands," smiled Sansa. "You love him. You want him. _Do something about it."_

That was such a simple thing for Sansa - beautiful, iridescent, lovely Sansa - to say. Every man she had ever desired had just fallen at her feet like a shining knight, swearing their fidelity. In contrast, Brienne did not have the looks to elicit such feelings in men; indeed, she rarely even got kindness or respect. For that reason, she did not want to ruin things as they were with Jaime. They were _friends,_ and it was more than she could have ever hoped for from someone as wonderful as him.

"No, I _can't."_

"Why not?" asked Sansa, a little irritated. "If you give me any more bullshit about how he is too good for you I might phone him up myself and get him to soliloquise on all the things he thinks are great about you."

"Sansa, I..."

" _Brienne,_ " said Sansa forcefully, cutting her off. "You are just being a big baby in all this. Jaime and Cersei have been broken up for three whole months and you are yet to make your move. Just do it. You'll feel so much better for it! Especially once you and Jaime sleep together at goddamn last."

Thinking that the likelihood of that outcome was remote, Brienne took the small sliver of an opportunity that Sansa had given her there to make her defence. "I want to give him time. His breakup with Cersei was bad... he needs more time to recover... I wouldn't want him to think it's a rebound thing... if... if... we did."

"I would have agreed with you two months ago," concurred Sansa, "but not now. Jaime's relationship with Cersei was entirely based on the fact he is a man with a very needy dick, and she is blonde and pretty. Nothing more. So, you swooping in now would not be a rebound. In fact, I would bet that Jaime would love it, because it would give him the opportunity to be a relationship with someone he actually cares about, and who cares about him in return."

In spite of Sansa's positive tone, Brienne couldn't help but scoff. "Jaime would not _love it._ We're friends. We've always been friends. He would be freaked out... he would be _disturbed."_

"How many times do I have to tell you!" squawked Sansa indignantly, "JAIME. IS. INTO. YOU. TOO."

Brienne hated it when Sansa got like this. There was a grand total of zero evidence to suggest Jaime's regard for Brienne was anything more that friendship - in fact, there was plenty of evidence to the contrary; namely, his prolonged relationship with Cersei - yet, even so, Sansa went on and on and _on_ about it like it was a legitimate possibility. Folding her arms across her chest in exaggerated annoyance, Brienne said loudly, "just because I am hopelessly, madly completely in love with Jaime, it does not mean he feels the same way about me, Sansa!"

"I..."

Just then there was the noise of a lock being rattled, and the sound made Brienne realise that Jaime, the third flatmate, had returned from work. Nearly jumping out of her skin, Brienne turned to Sansa, her eyes wide. "Act normal!" she insisted with a dramatic whisper, " _why aren't you acting normal?"_

"I am acting normal," replied Sansa with a laugh, "it's not my fault that you are so in love with Jaime that the mere thought of him coming home gets you so excited you start behaving like a five year old at Christmas."

Before Sansa even finished her sentence, Jaime had entered the kitchen, shucking off his coat to reveal he was wearing his slovenly work uniform, which nevertheless managed to look like Armani on him. For a few, horrifying seconds, Brienne thought that he had heard what Sansa had been saying about her being in love with him. It brought a complex mix of emotions - dread, terror, nausea, excitement, relief - but they all washed away the second he took his airpods out of his ears. Evidently, he hadn't heard anything at all.

"Hey guys," he said, slinging his coat over his right arm. "What are you doing?"

As ever, Brienne was a flittering, fluttering mess at the sight of Jaime, so she left the talking to Sansa. "Oh," said the mischievous redhead, "just talking about Brienne's love life. There's this guy she's super in love with..."

At Sansa's obvious attempt to stir shit up, Jaime cocked his eyebrow at Brienne, which made it difficult for her to stay on her feet. "Really wench? Who is this mysterious suitor of yours?"

Trying (and failing) to stop herself going the particular shade of red common to cherry tomatoes, Brienne turned decisively towards the kettle, determined to find something to do other than drowning in his beautiful green eyes. "Doesn't matter," she mumbled, flicking the kettle back on, "we just made tea so the water should still be warm... do you want a cuppa? I can bring it into the lounge for you when it's ready."

"Okay," replied Jaime, running a hand through his spun-gold hair, "I've got to go and hang my coat up anyway. I'll see you in a sec. Then you can come and tell me all about your day."

After giving Brienne one more bright (and blindingly sexy) smile, Jaime sauntered out of the kitchen without a care in the world, leaving Brienne to spin around and glare at their other flatmate. "Sansa," growled Brienne, trying to keep her voice low so there was no chance that Jaime would hear her. "Can you please keep your big mouth shut?"

In the face of Brienne's annoyance, Sansa just smiled at her friend. "I _am_ sorry, really I am, it's just I think you should tell him you love him, because it is the truth. Love is a nice thing, after all."

Crumpling on herself, Brienne stepped away from the kettle. She was truly fed up with Sansa's bullshit. "No it's not a _nice thing_ ," she said firmly, keeping her voice level in her attempt to prevent herself from crying. _Not coming from me anyway..._ Sansa did not seem to notice, however, as she just swept past Brienne in order to pour the tea for Jaime.

"Well, at least tell him you named your vibrator after him. That would make him _really_ happy." At that statement, Sansa turned to grin at Brienne, only to find her friend was on the verge of tears. "Oh... sweetheart..."

"Please can you stop teasing me about this, Sansa?" Brienne asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, determined not to get upset about Jaime Lannister of all things. She knew how things were; there was no point in crying about it. "It's bad enough knowing it is impossible, I don't need you making fun of me about it all the time."

"I'm not making fun," insisted Sansa, just as she finished stirring the milk into Jaime's tea. "I just think you are so hard on yourself and can't see the trees for the woods because of it."

Brienne knew that Sansa was trying to tell her that she thought that Jaime _did_ want her, that he _did_ return her feelings, that he _did_ love her but, to Brienne, it all sounded so impossible that she interpreted it as casual cruelty every time Sansa tried to make her case. "Please Sansa," she begged, her voice thick. " _Stop._ You saying he feels for me what I feel for him doesn't give me hope, it doesn't make me feel better, it just makes me _sad._ So, please. If you are my friend... _stop."_

At her request, Sansa nodded, her face pale. "Okay, I'll stop, but I do think you are not seeing what is really going on here. If you just talked to him about how you feel, he might be more amenable to the idea than what you think."

"Mmmm," replied Brienne, not wanting to agree with Sansa or antagonise her, but instead strike an easy balance between the two. Picking up the cup of tea, Brienne said, "I'm going to go and give this to Jaime. If you want to come with, please don't make any jokes about me and him."

"I won't," said Sansa sincerely, whilst looking a little sad. "I won't."

* * *

When Brienne and Sansa left the kitchen and went into the little lounge the three housemates shared, they found Jaime sprawled out on the sofa, tapping away on his phone. While Sansa went to sit in the armchair, Brienne put the tea down on the coffee table level with Jaime's eyeline. It made him look up from his phone and smile at her. "Thanks servant wench, maybe I'll give you a raise."

"Shut up," she said teasingly, swinging his legs off the sofa so she could sit down. "I'm not your servant."

"Awww, poor me," Jaime laughed, before putting his feet on Brienne's lap. Her thighs were instantly set alight. "I'd enjoy it if you were my servant, wench. I'd get you a little French maid outfit; your legs would look amazing in that."

At that statement, Brienne could feel Sansa's stare boring into the side of her head so, in an attempt to throw her off, she let out a little scoff. "I wouldn't enjoy it. Serving Little Lord Lannister sounds like hell on earth."

Jaime pouted at her teasingly, which only made her heart flutter. Brienne sometimes found it immensely irritating what power Jaime had over her, but then she remembered that she loved him dearly and would do anything for him. Perhaps sensing something in her expression, he gave her one of his handsome smiles. "Wench," he said slowly.

"What?"

"I rolled my ankle when I stacked it at work today," he smiled, his pretty eyes glinting. "Will you massage it for me, servant wench?"

"If you stop calling me servant wench," she replied cheekily, even as she slipped his sock off and began to rub his ankle. The second her fingers touched his skin, Jaime let out an appreciative little groan, which made Brienne weirdly hot. As she began to roll soothing little circles into the dip in his ankle, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out with her free hand, she noticed it was a message from Sansa.

_Sansa:_ I bet that's what Jaime sounds like in bed :P

As Brienne shot Sansa a furious look, stuffing her phone back in her pocket before going back and attending to Jaime's swollen ankle. Noticing the glance that had passed between Brienne and Sansa, Jaime narrowed his eyes and turned to the former. "What did Sansa just send you on your phone?"

"Nothing," replied Brienne, her embarrassed blush hiding her freckles.

"I don't believe you," grinned Jaime, "I reckon it is something _scandalous,_ wench."

"No it's not," said Brienne, keeping her eyes firmly on Jaime's ankle, determinedly trying to give him a little relief from the pain.

At her avoidance of the question, Jaime's grin grew. "Oh, yes it is. I see the way you are blushing... so I reckon I could have a guess. It's something so sinfully outrageous it has made you go bright red."

"No it isn't," she replied quietly, going redder and redder as she _knew_ what Sansa had written, and it made her feel hot and bothered.

"Yes it is, servant wench," he chuckled. "I bet it's the name of your vibrator."

Brienne snapped her head up to look at him, her eyes wide. "No it's bloody well not!"

"I know he has a name," Jaime laughed, "you told me when you got drunk at my birthday party, so I'm determined to find it out!"

Even though she knew Jaime would never stop trying to winkle out the truth, after Drunk Brienne had accidentally admitted her vibrator had a name, Sober Brienne had promised herself that she would never ever _ever_ reveal it.

Because, of course, he was called Jaime.

"I will never reveal his name," declared Brienne valiantly, before trying to change the subject. "Anyway, I think the most important thing is who are _you_ texting? You've been tapping away since the second Sansa and I walked in here."

Suddenly, a dark cloud moved across Jaime's features. "You don't want to know," he said, his voice strangely emotionless.

"Why?" asked Brienne, set to tease him. "Have you bought a fleshlight and given her a name?"

" _Ha. Ha,_ " replied Jaime sarcastically, before withdrawing his feet from Brienne's lap. It made Brienne feel weirdly sad. "I'm not telling you because you'll disapprove."

Brienne's stomach dropped through the floor, stealing her words. That statement could only mean one thing, and Sansa voiced it. "Oh fucking hell, Jaime, you're not talking to Cersei again, are you?"

Then it was Jaime's turn to blush. "I... might be."

"WHY!" shouted Sansa exasperatedly, "she's a conceited, vain, jealous, harpy!"

"And those are just her good points," muttered Brienne, as she got out her phone.

"But she wants to talk, she wants to explain why it all went wrong," said Jaime, attempting to justify everything. "She's even asked to meet me at _The Winterfell_ tomorrow to talk things over, and she hates _The Winterfell."_

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Oh god, don't let yourself get pulled into her bullshit again Jaime! She'll have you kissing her feet by the end of the week!"

"No I won't!" declared Jaime. "I know we've had our problems in the past, and I know she hasn't always been the best to me, but we have a lot in common and..."

Brienne didn't want to hear anymore. Getting to her feet, she mumbled something about needing to find something in her bedroom, before jogging away as quickly as she could, unable to block out the sound of Jaime trying to explain his reunion with his obnoxious ex. Once she was back in the safety of her poster-covered bedroom once more, Brienne sent Sansa a speedy message.

_Brienne:_ I told you.

Her reply came back almost instantly.

_Sansa:_ :(

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANNNNNDDDD I hope you liked that! I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos, because every single one makes me a better writer.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime goes to meet Cersei, and Brienne and Sansa are *curious*...


	2. The Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Sansa go on a spying operation at The Winterfell pub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this is a bit late! I've been suffering with a horrible cold the past few days. I hope you enjoy!

"You know, Brienne, if your job at the fridge shop falls through, you could always go into espionage," said Sansa liltingly, giving her friend a breezy smile.

"Oh yes," countered Brienne sarcastically, "because MI6 regularly employ giantesses to protect Queen and Country. The female equivalent of Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun would really blend in."

Sansa shrugged. "You are blending in right now."

Brienne raised one sceptical eyebrow at her. "Sansa, we are both sitting in _The Winterfell_ pub in awful wigs and big coats. We've got about as much talent for disguise as a giraffe in dark glasses trying to get into a _polar bears only_ golf club!"

A little irritated that Brienne was moaning about her plan, Sansa hit back. "Would you rather we went home?" she asked tersely, "and _not_ find out what exactly Cersei has got to say to Jaime?"

"No, I..."

"Well then," said Sansa forcefully, "spying is the best option we've got. And don't worry, I think we are disguised well enough for Jaime not to notice us."

That hypothesis was roundly destroyed approximately two point five seconds later.

"Hi Sansa, Brienne," said Arya as she and Gendry approached their table carrying beers, "why are both wearing drag queen wigs?"

As Brienne started sighing at how quickly their plan had been exposed, Sansa went into defence mode. "Arya, shove off! We're in the middle of a spying operation!"

"You are always so polite to me, sis," said Arya sarcastically, just as Gendry put a protective arm around her.

"Arya is just asking a valid question," he proclaimed, "who are you even spying on?"

While Brienne did not think most spies spilled their guts to the first person who asked them a mildly interrogative question, but Sansa seemed to take the opposite opinion. "Jaime. He should be arriving in a little while in order to talk to Cersei about the state of their relationship. We just want to check the stupid boy isn't going back to her."

Arya rolled her eyes. "God that man has no taste."

"Tell me about it," muttered Brienne, even as Gendry spoke across her.

"I still think there are better ways to spy though," he said, a laugh in his tone. "Especially as you guys come to _The Winterfell_ nearly every day of the week and loads of people here know and recognise you."

"Like who?" asked Sansa, as if she genuinely had no idea.

"Well," replied Gendry, taking on the tone of a primary school teacher talking to a very slow child, "me and Arya make two."

"And Daenerys and Jon are right over there playing tonsil tennis and I think Missandei and Theon are floating about somewhere too," added Arya, pointing around at the regulars they knew.

"Oh," interjected Gendry, "and of course the barmen Pod and Hyle would recognise you both in a heartbeat, even with the stupid wigs."

Just at that exact moment, Jaime and Cersei entered through the pub's door, leaving Brienne to be impaled by a spike of terror and excitement. Cersei looked her usual glamorous self, in a bright red dress summer dress even though it was freezing, while Jaime was still deliciously handsome in his suit that he wore for his job at the call centre. The sight of them set Brienne's heart racing. "Sorry guys," she said hurriedly, trying to catch a glimpse of Jaime around Gendry's burly arm, "but do you mind leaving us to our spying? I need to know whether he's going back to Cersei."

Even as Gendry went to say something, Arya locked her arm around his in order to direct him away, saying as she went, "Brienne, he's a fool not to notice you." After that comment from Arya, Brienne was immensely pleased she had bought a pair of sunglasses, as it meant she could partially hide herself considering she was blushing so furiously. Once Arya and Gendry had moved away, the two intrepid spies also had a clear view of Jaime and Cersei at the bar.

"What do you think they're saying?" Brienne asked, her voice low.

"Don't know," replied Sansa, "but he's probably just bought her that gin and tonic that is being poured for her."

Once the pair of ex's had their drinks, they walked over to a table that was close enough for Sansa and Brienne to hear what was going on, but still far enough away that the spies would not be noticed. As Brienne watched Jaime pull out the chair for Cersei, then drop a feather light touch on the small of her back, she could not help but feel the entwined pangs of jealousy and dread.

 _They're going to get back together,_ she thought. _I know they are._

Brienne was just about to have this horrible eventuality confirmed when her Sansa's phone started ringing loudly. "Sansa!" Brienne cried in a dramatic whisper, "can you turn it off?"

Sansa withdrew her phone from her pocket to do just that, but then pulled an apologetic look. "Sorry, Brienne. It's my mum."

 _Oh god,_ thought Brienne. _If she actually has a conversation with Catelyn, she'll be on the phone for the next seventeen years._

"Hello mum," began Sansa, trying to keep her voice low. Even so, it was still too loud to hear what Jaime and Cersei was saying. "Mmm hmm... Mmm hmm... yep, I'm fine... Yes, I've just seen Arya, she's fine too... mmm hmm... glad to hear Bran is settling into his new student flat... mmm mmm... how's Rickon's first week at uni been?... Mmm... oh yes... that sounds good... mmm mmm... I wouldn't be too surprised by that... because Bran doesn't like Petyr... mmm mmm... I know _you_ like Petyr, Mum, but Bran thinks it is too soon after Dad... mmm... mmm... Okay, I'm probably going to have to go now because Brienne is staring daggers at me... Mmm mmm... okay... I'll talk later... mmm... yes, I love you too... love you... goodbye... bye Mum... bye..." After hanging up and putting the phone back in her pocket, Sansa gave Brienne an apologetic look. "Sorry, it's just..."

"Not now!" whispered Brienne. "Jaime and Cersei are talking."

Remembering her mission, Agent Sansa joined Agent Brienne in turning to look at the two blonde targets on the other side of the pub; to the Brienne's surprise, Jaime was not looking at Cersei, but smiling across the pub at her. It made Brienne's lonely heart flutter. In spite of this good news, Jaime appeared to be on the back foot, while Cersei was roaring like a lioness. "Jaime!" spat Cersei tersely, causing him to snap his head back towards her. "Do you see what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, totally..." he replied, in the lazy drawl that indicated to Brienne that he had no idea what Cersei had just said and wasn't really listening. Cersei did not seem to notice, however, and just ploughed on regardless.

"I know she's one of your best friends, but you _live_ with her and spend most of your time with her. Don't you think it's a bit weird?"

Jaime narrowed his eyes at her. "No, we're just friends."

Cersei raised one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him. "What? A friend you spend all your time with on your days off traipsing around the woods pretending to be knights."

"It's called LARPing, Cers," said Jaime, almost rolling his eyes. "It's just a hobby. And, anyway, our characters the Kingslayer and the Maid of Tarth _hate_ each other. We spend all our time fighting."

Sensing she was losing him, Cersei starting pouting prettily at him, her green eyes shining. "I just wish we could spend some time together, that's all. Just the two of us. It's just... with Brienne always around, it's no wonder I always invite my flatmates to places, that exacerbates things, and then we never get any alone time."

"What do you mean?" Jaime asked, before taking a sip of his beer.

"Well, you hardly get on with Euron and Melara, do you?" replied Cersei with a flip of her perfect golden hair. Her heart falling in her chest, Brienne knew Jaime would never be able to resist.

"No," said Jaime, a mischievous smile dawning on his face. "What does exacerbates mean?"

Even as Brienne found herself chuckling, knowing he was being facetious, Cersei just got annoyed. "It means to make things worse!" she squawked, folding her arms across her chest.

Noticing her annoyance, Jaime tried to smooth things over. "I'm joking Cers," he said teasingly, which made Brienne splutter with laughter. For half a second, Jaime turned to look at her, pleased with himself, but then quickly returned to Cersei when she regarded him with a furious stare. "I'm joking!"

"Seemingly for your paying audience!" she spat, pointing at Brienne and Sansa, who immediately went to drinking their beers as if they were just two drag queens casually having a drink in a pub.

At Cersei's rage, Jaime struggled to find the words to placate her. "Cersei, I'm not... I'm sorry... look, just because I spend time with Brienne, it doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you too because I do... but you can't ask me to give up my best friend."

"But we spend no quality time together," declared Cersei, looking every inch the angry goddess she was, "because you are always wrestling Brienne in some field somewhere! For once in my life, I would like to go somewhere just you and me; without my flatmates, without Brienne, and somewhere that is not _The Winterfell._ It's cold and smelly and full of old drunks. I would like to go out for a nice meal, somewhere expensive."

The old drunks of _The Winterfell_ all shot dirty looks at that point, but nobody said anything, as Jaime was valiantly trying to defend himself. "But I can't _afford_ somewhere expensive."

Cersei's response was quick and cracked like a whip. "You would be able to if you loved me."

 _He does love you,_ thought Brienne sadly. _He loves you so much he's blind to anything else._

"I do care about you, Cers, it's just..."

"Good!" Cersei snapped. "Then you can book us somewhere nice for dinner tomorrow. How about _Casterly?_ I hear it does some nice food, and it will look good on my _insta_."

"But the _Casterly_ is expensive..." began Jaime, trying to mount a defence. Cersei had no time for it, however.

"Great!" she cried, a forceful, manic grin on her face. "It will prove to me that you want me back! Tomorrow night, seven thirty... or I might just let Euron take me out! I'll call the restaurant; you just need to turn up and pay for me. Then you can prove how much you care."

Then, without another word, Cersei got to her feet and stormed out of the pub, leaving behind both her London prices gin and tonic that Jaime had paid £4.50 for and her lovely boyfriend, who just watched her go confusedly, sadness in his eyes.

 _You don't deserve him, Cersei,_ Brienne thought. _You have never deserved him. What I would give to have him look at me the way he looks at you for even a moment..._

"Brienne," came Sansa's voice, seemingly from another world. "You are staring."

"Oh," replied Brienne simply, pulling her gaze from Jaime's beautiful face before turning back to stare at her beer. "Sorry... it's just... you know. They're getting back together."

Sansa put her hand reassuringly on Brienne's wrist. "That doesn't necessarily mean all is lost. One day, Jaime is bound to wake up to what Cersei is."

Brienne could barely see the positives in that outcome. "By then, they'll have been married for twenty five years with three children, a massive house and a cat called Ser Pounce. You know Jaime's not great at picking up on the obvious."

Sansa couldn't argue with that gloomy summation of the future, so she just gave her friend a consoling look. "Well, at least we can have a drink in our drag queen wigs, I suppose it's not all bad."

Brienne let out a sad laugh, agreeing with Sansa's attempt at cheering her up, and went to say something but found she was interrupted. "Budge up, wench," came Jaime's overly jovial voice, holding his drink in his hand, before he noticed Brienne's expression. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," replied Brienne, trying to hide the sense of defeat that was slowly overwhelming her. As she took her wig off, went for a self-deprecating joke. "It's just Sansa and I are just sitting in here like we are every night of our lives like the rest of the saddos in here, drinking ourselves to death wondering what the hell happened."

"You're always full of positives, wench," smiled Jaime, shoving himself onto the booth seat next to her, his whole body pressed against Brienne's side. It instantly set Brienne longing in a way she knew was futile. "By the way," Jaime continued, seemingly not noticing how uncomfortable she was. "Why are you wearing wigs?"

"We're just trying a new look, aren't we Brienne?" answered Sansa as she removed her own wig.

Valiantly attempting to keep her blush at bay, Brienne just agreed with a non-committal "mmm."

Not settling for such a nothing answer, Jaime furrowed his brow at her. "You don't need to change your hair, wench. I like your hair."

Brienne let out a snort, "come on. Nobody thinks straw is a good look."

"I do," he said with a shrug, not taking his eyes off her.

 _You prefer a long blonde glossy mane though, don't you?_ thought Brienne bitterly, taking another sip of her drink.

Luckily, Sansa was not quite as obtuse as Jaime, so she said, "come on Brienne, shall we go back to the flat? I fancy having a girl's night and watching a film."

"That sounds a good plan," conceded Brienne, making to move away. Unfortunately, Jaime's hand was around hers in an instant, holding her still.

"Guys, I've just come and sat with you are you're running away," he complained, with a little boy's whine in his voice. "Stay and have a drink with me. You can't leave me with this bunch of crazy regulars." As he said it, Jaime waved his hand around at some of the biggest oddities who were positioned around _The Winterfell._

Always a sucker for the underdog, Brienne pushed back against his snobbery. "Hey, these are rich and interesting characters."

"Like who?" asked Sansa, wrinkling her nose.

Having both her flatmates attention, Brienne scanned the pub, looking for a target; eventually she found him. "The Bear," she said, pointing to the very hairy man sat at the bar who would always come in and stare at Daenerys longingly.

"Oh yes," chuckled Jaime darkly, taking her story in his own direction. "Always surrounded by women, but never gets any of them. His first wife spent him out of house and home and then ran off with a French banker. Now, he spends his days pining after a blonde half his age who is frankly doing so much better."

Even though he knew he was being _incredibly_ silly, Brienne could not help but point at an aging red head over in the corner, who was downing a sherry alone. "What about her?" asked Brienne, feeling herself being dragged into Jaime's stupid game.

"Cockacidal maniac," he declared, which sent Brienne spluttering. "Apparently, she's murdered loads of people all in the aim of getting her first love's dick, who doesn't care for her at all."

Although Sansa was laughing too, she found the wherewithal to declare, "hey, that's my Aunt Lysa!"

That only made Brienne guffaw even louder, which spurred Jaime on, allowing him to pull her back into her seat. "And you see that guy over there?" he said in a low voice, so close that Brienne could feel his breath on her face.

"Which one?"

"The giant with the burn on his face over by the slot machine."

"What's he done?" asked Sansa as she leant forward, intrigued.

"Ex-London mafia," said Jaime sagely, even as Brienne laughed harder, "it's true, Bronn told me so."

Rolling her eyes, Brienne declared, "yeah, but Bronn also happens to claim that dogs can't look up."

"Doesn't stop Bronn being right in this case," countered Jaime firmly. "Apparently, that guy got his face burnt by his own brother when he was a kid and has been bitter about it ever since."

As that sounded like a genuinely sad story, both Brienne and Sansa stopped laughing. The silence emboldened Sansa to make her case once more for leaving the pub. "Come on, Brienne. I fancy some popcorn and a girly film. It sounds much more fun than sitting here for hours on end like we normally do."

In spite of Sansa's pleas, Brienne found that she could not move, because Jaime was giving her one of his wounded pouts which always made her feel like she wanted to wrap him in cotton wool and hug him until he smiled at her again. "But wench, I could tell you stories about _loads_ of people in here."

"Like who?" asked Brienne sceptically.

"Like that ginger with the beard who is playing pool right now," answered Jaime, tipping his head in the direction of the lumberjack looking man who Brienne knew enjoyed waggling his eyebrows at her all the time. "I can tell you for a fact that he wants to get into your pants."

Brienne's eyes went wide. "No he doesn't!"

"Oh yes he does!" replied Jaime with a laugh. "He even asked me if you were my girl, once, so he could make his move."

As Tormund had _never_ done anything that could be constituted as 'making a move', Brienne felt compelled to ask Jaime a question that made her feel quite jittery. "What did you say to that?" she asked, the thought of being Jaime's girl terrifying but exciting at the same time. Her nerves were only heightened when his expression suddenly changed into something softer, more vulnerable.

"I told him that you were my girlfriend," he said gently, the tender tone leaving Brienne quite unable to tell if the blush in his cheeks were imagined or real, "because you could do so much better than that idiot."

Brienne had to remind herself to breathe after that declaration, even though it was not the same thing as _Wench, I want you._ Yet she let herself enjoy it; for a transient moment, she was Jaime's girl and he was hers. It was such an incredible dream that it cost her the ability to speak, leaving Sansa to do it for her.

"Well Jaime," she said, a mischievous grin dawning on her face. "Don't you think you should buy your girl another drink?"

Jaime smiled so prettily that Brienne was lost.

"Of course, wench. What do you want?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There was a bit of dialogue stealing in this one; well done if you spot the references. Please consider leaving comments or kudos: I love to know how I am doing!
> 
> Next time... Brienne and Jaime go LARPing...


	3. The Kingslayer and the Wench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go LARPing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for coming back! For those who do not know, LARPing is "Live Action Role Playing" and involves people dressing up as characters and acting out fantasy scenarios from films etc. As you can probably tell, I have never actually been LARPing, so I hope it is somewhat truthful.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As soon as Brienne finished work at the fridge shop the next day, she dashed home, picked up her sword and armour, and went to the local woods for LARPing. For the past three months, she and Jaime had been active participants in an ongoing roleplay called _A Song of Ice and Fire_ directed managed by Samwell Tarly and his girlfriend Gilly. Jaime had joined first and had instantly taken on the role of the dashing and terrible Kingslayer, a man known for the murdering of the old king rather than his good deeds. When they were at their best, Jaime had convinced Cersei to come along and play. At first, she had been cast as Jaime's twin sister but, when the pair of them wouldn't stop snogging what felt like anytime Brienne herself was in the vicinity, Sam had decided to make them a pair of incestuous villains who pushed a kid out the window.

"Why do I never get to play good guys, Sam?" Jaime had whined when they went to the pub afterwards.

"You are not a villain," Sam had declared, "you are morally complex."

"Cersei is still a complete bitch though," Brienne had muttered, which had only earnt her a furious glare from the blonde menace herself and a beautiful snort of laughter from Jaime.

Ever since Jaime and Cersei's relationship had ground to a halt, however, Cersei had refused to come, meaning Sam was forced to develop some sort of subplot where the villainous Queen Cersei was being held prisoner by some religious nuts. In turn, the Kingslayer was valiantly trying to return to his beloved sister, while his captor, the noble and true Maid of Tarth, was holding him prisoner. On that particular Tuesday, Brienne and Jaime were pretending that he had managed to escape, and she was tracking him through the woods. It resulted in an elaborate game of hide-and-seek through the trees while she held her sword aloft, trying to keep her breathing steady in case she heard him.

 _I don't care that you gave me this sword for Christmas, Jaime,_ she thought, _because when I find you, the Maid of Tarth is going to beat you to a pulp._

In fact, they had given each other their blunted swords as presents; hers, a magnificent steel longsword called _Oathkeeper,_ while he had its smaller twin, _Widow's Wail._ When they had unveiled their matching gifts, Brienne had been convinced she and Jaime had been able to read each other's minds and the pair of them had just hugged each other in happiness and thanks under the Christmas Tree, while Sansa watched on knowingly.

 _It means nothing,_ Brienne had told herself every day since, _just because he gave me a beautiful sword, and I did the same for him, it does not mean he feels anything for me beyond friendship..._

Lost in her thoughts of Jaime, Brienne missed the moment the Kingslayer came charging out of the woods, wearing a gleeful grin with _Widow's Wail_ held high. Brienne had to spin out of the way before coming back to parry his blow. Once she was out of danger, she growled at him.

"Give me the sword, Kingslayer," she ordered, totally embodying her character. As he was doing the same, Jaime just smirked.

Cocking an eyebrow at her, Jaime embodied all the arrogance of the Kingslayer. "Oh, I will," he purred, making it sound like some sort of sexual innuendo. For a moment, the Maid of Tarth slipped away, and Brienne resurfaced, causing her to blush at his suggestive comment, which made Jaime laugh carelessly. Irritated because of his mocking and the fact that her smug flatmate always thought he was better at fighting, Brienne became determined to show him he was wrong.

So they fought. A clash of swords - _swing, hit, parry, blow_ \- him stepping forwards, her retreating, and then the opposite. Brienne never felt more in tune with Jaime than when they were fighting; this was a way Cersei would never know him, wild-eyed and beautiful, his face flushed with exertion. Their swords kissed with every hit, the clang of metal resounding around the woods. When Brienne began to approach victory, Jaime span away from her, a glint in his eyes.

"Come on, come on," he laughed. "The music's still playing. Might I have this dance, my lady?"

As they danced it started to rain, the mud growing slippery beneath their feet. It made the fighting harder, but it was worth it; there was nothing Brienne liked more at the end of a boring day selling fridges than fighting Jaime in the woods as if they were a hero and a villain in a fantasy. It made her feel alive; his body so close, reacting to hers in a way that felt like they were entwined. After several more minutes of clashing, Jaime had just begun to tire her out when the scene changed once more. The small clearing they had chosen for their fight was suddenly flooded with people carrying all sorts of weapons; pikes, axes, arakhs, and swords. Brienne recognised them at once; it was the villainous Bloody Mummers, led by the terrifying Goat of Qohor who was grinning at them both over his pointy goatee.

"What do we have here?" began Vargo Hoat, his grin growing.

"Well met, friends," smiled the Kingslayer, totally casually, "My pardons if I disturbed you. You caught me chastising my wife."

In spite of all her best intentions, Brienne knew that Jaime calling her his wife would be dancing around her head for weeks. However, Vargo Hoat did not seem to sense the significance of the phrase, and lisped, "Theemed to me she wath doing the chathithing!"

And then they were fighting again. The Kingslayer launched himself of Vargo, and the two of them sprang into action, blade meeting blade, while Brienne tried to keep some of the other Bloody Mummers off her back. Of course Sam would not keep this simple for her... there always had to be storylines that complicated things. It would not be possible for the Maid of Tarth to just take the Kingslayer successfully to where she needed to... _no._ Things always had to be difficult and tragic in _A Song of Ice and Fire._

Even considering Samwell's games, Brienne thought she and Jaime were holding their own very well against the big group of new enemies, even when Jaime had to go head to head with massive Zollo. Sensing it might be a little difficult for him alone, Brienne tried to make her way towards him, her sword held aloft.

 _If I can just get to him, we can fight off Zollo together,_ she thought, _Jaime and I, side by side._

However, then the battle was suddenly interrupted by real life. As Jaime tried to avoid Zollo's huge arakh, he went to twist underneath his arm but found himself slipping in the mud. Falling, _Widow's Wail_ tumbled out of Jaime's grip and he quickly found himself flat on his back, his arms above his head. In the confusion and chaos, Vargo Hoat stepped backwards in an effort to stop himself slipping in the very same mud, causing the lisping LARPer to bring his foot cracking down on Jaime's right wrist.

The scream Jaime unleashed could have awoken the dead.

Everyone stopped fighting in an instant. Without a second thought, Brienne flung _Oathkeeper_ to the floor and ran to Jaime's side, dropping in the mud so she could examine his wrist. "Jaime!" she cried, panic stricken, "are you okay?"

"My wrist!" he moaned, pulling his right had close to his chest. "My wrist fucking hurts! I think it's broken."

Horrified at what he had done, the nervous and generally sweet Vargo got down on the other side of Jaime in turn. "Oh god I'm tho tho thorry mate," he lisped, "I was thlipping. I didn't thee you."

"It's okay," Jaime groaned, as Brienne began to desperately brush his hair out of his face. Her hand on his skin made him open his eyes once more - green and beautiful - and gaze at her intensely. "Wench," he croaked, aiming for humour, "who knew LARPing was so dangerous?"

"It wasn't the LARPing," Brienne smiled wearily, glad to see the Jaime she knew through the pain, just as Zollo got his phone out and called the ambulance. "It was the rain and the fact you tried to do clever moves."

"Don't you like me doing clever moves?" Jaime asked, teasing her as he clutched his broken wrist to his body.

"No," she said honestly, running her fingers down his face. "Not if you get hurt in the process."

Not being able to stop herself, Brienne left her hand lingering on his cheek. If she had been a more beautiful woman, Brienne may have suspected the casual tilt of Jaime's head towards her was an attempt to lean into her touch. However, as she was Brienne and he was Jaime, it only felt mocking and it made her withdraw.

 _He could never want me like that,_ she thought.

* * *

In the end, it was Brienne and Vargo who accompanied Jaime to the hospital in the back of the ambulance, mainly because Vargo wanted to say "thorry, thorry, thorry" over and over again, while Jaime had insisted that Brienne accompany him.

"A knight must have his lady with him," Jaime declared, fixing Brienne with a teasing grin as the nurse Talisa began to make up the plaster cast. If that was meant to make Brienne laugh it failed, as the comment only made her think of Cersei; beautiful, blooming, bitchy Cersei. Brienne thought it would not be too long before Jaime thought of his almost-girlfriend, they were on the cusp of getting back together after all.

During her silence, Jaime perhaps saw her worry in her expression, as he reached out with his good hand and took her hand. "What's the matter? Are you worried about me?"

"Of course not," she said quickly, looking down at where their hands joined, her fingers burning at his touch. "You'll be fine. It's just a broken wrist."

"Which I'm tho thorry about," added Vargo with a tiny smile.

"As I said, it's okay," replied Jaime consolingly, "I'm just worried about whether I'll be able to continue to sword fight, that's all."

Brienne gave him a firm look. "Of course you will. If you want to, you'll find a way. Otherwise, if you don't come back, Sam is probably going to have to kill the Kingslayer off and none of us would want that."

"No," agreed Jaime with a laugh, "me beyond everyone, especially as he went down in a pile of mud. That's not the way he wants to go."

"No?" asked Brienne, surprised that Jaime had crafted a whole inner world for his character. "How does he want to go, then?"

Jaime squeezed her hand a little tighter as he smiled at her, his expression almost sentimental. "The Kingslayer wants to go in the arms of the woman he loves, wench."

And there it was again: Cersei.

 _It always comes back to her,_ she thought bitterly. _Always Cersei, even when I'm right here._

Letting go of his hand, Brienne got to her feet. "I'm going to get some coffee for me and Vargo. I'll be back in a minute."

Jaime looked almost disappointed as she backed away, but Brienne knew she could not stay by his side as he soliloquised on the wonders of Cersei. Although Brienne was pathetically in love with him, she still had enough self-respect to keep that part of herself safe from him. As she would never tell him the truth of what lay in her heart, Brienne had to retreat, because the alternative was revealing herself.

 _And I can never do that,_ she thought, _because it would scare Jaime away._

* * *

Once Jaime had his plaster cast fit, Brienne helped him home on the bus, trying to avoid the joking at her expense the whole way. It sometimes cut too close to the bone. "Wench, you were my valiant knight when you sat with me in the hospital," he declared, misty-eyed, before his expression took a joking turn, "thanks for saving me, but I did have a dying wish that I'm now never going to get because of your unending loyalty."

"What's that, then?" she asked curiously, as Jaime shuffled a little too close to her on the back seat of the bus. Their sudden closeness made Brienne warm as well as sparking an unquenchable ache off in her chest. She wished she had the strength to escape from his nearness, but in truth, there was something wonderful about having Jaime so close, especially when he was near enough for her to feel his breath on her face.

He looked up, his expression teasing. "What is your vibrator called?"

Brienne rolled her eyes in a poor effort to divert from the fact that it was named after the man sitting next to her. "Not this again!"

"Yes, this again," Jaime grinned. "You know I _will_ find out, don't you? Even if I have to pin my ear to the wall as you are using it to hear whose name you cry out."

At that intimate joke, Brienne's face went very, very red. "No you bloody well will not, you perv."

"Oh I will," he promised, his smile growing dangerous, "before I die, I will discover what that vibrator is called. My money is on Sir Galahad, because you are so honourable and virtuous no one else would be up to the job."

"Well you would be wrong there," she countered, folding her arms across her chest. "My vibrator is named after the man I love, so you would never be able to guess in a million years."

As Jaime's eyes grew very big at that admission, Brienne realised she had said too much. "You are in love with someone?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft.

 _Don't tell him!_ she screamed internally. _Never tell someone you love them, it only makes you look stupid, especially when he is Jaime and you are ugly, uninteresting Brienne._

Wanting the ground to swallow her up, Brienne scrabbled around for an answer that wouldn't make her look ridiculous. "I... I... I..."

Luckily for her, just then the bus ground to a halt, meaning Brienne was afforded the opportunity of leaping out of her seat, and holding her hand out to the totally oblivious namesake of her vibrator. "Come on Jaime," she said, "let's take you home."

Perhaps Jaime had sensed something in her tone, but he had the good sense to shut up about the vibrator question as they got off the bus and walked back to their flat. Wanting nothing more than to curl up on the sofa next to Jaime and order a pizza, Brienne was disheartened to see Sansa outside on the drive with their upstairs neighbour Ramsay, who was wearing a venomous expression.

"How many times have I told you?" he spat. "You have put your wheelie bin on my side of the driveway. IT. MAKES. ME. ANGRY."

"I'm sorry Mr Bolton," Sansa stammered, "I won't do it again..."

"You are fucking correct!" he raged, his cold grey eyes wide. "You fucking will not! Because if you do, I will sue you for everything you own."

"I... I... I..."

"Oh shut up Ramsay," Jaime scowled as he casually walked down the drive, as if their terrifying neighbour was not a problem they had to deal with weekly. Sansa often claimed she smelt weird odours coming from his outdoor fridge, and there was a theory going around that he was a serial killer. Therefore, while Brienne did not think it was wise for Jaime to treat him so flippantly, her idiot beloved did not have such qualms.

"Don't you tell me to shut up!" growled Ramsay. "Those bins are infringing on my property..."

"We've told you we won't do it again," said Jaime as he went to open the front door with his right hand, incased in his plaster cast. Noticing he could not manage, Brienne slipped past and did it for him, while he turned back to Ramsay. "So, please, just accept Sansa's apology and move on with your life."

"She'll do it again within a week," Ramsay declared, "and then I'll really get angry... and you won't like me when I'm angry."

"Okay," replied Jaime lazily once Brienne had the door open, and he stayed there defensively as Sansa scampered inside, quickly followed by Brienne. "Get angry, but I promise you, Ramsay, that you won't like _me_ when I'm angry, either."

With one last cutting smile, Jaime turned and stepped into the downstairs flat, slamming the door behind him and locking out their horrible neighbour. Sansa let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god you two turned up, he's been having a go at me for half an hour," gasped Sansa, just before noticing Jaime's wrist. "What the hell happened to you?"

While Brienne expected him to look at Sansa, instead he gazed at her, giving her a cheeky smile. "I was defending a maiden from a band of merciless mercenaries."

In response to his ridiculousness, Sansa raised an eyebrow at Brienne, searching for the truth. Brienne just let out a puff of laughter. "He slipped in the mud and a lisping LARPer stamped on his wrist."

"You are so mean to me, wench," Jaime pouted, the expression making her heart flutter. "I think you owe me pizza for that."

"Hardly," grinned Brienne. "In fact, I think you owe _me_ pizza. I've had to sit at the hospital with you most of this evening listening to your whinging; it's the least you can do to repay me."

"Fair enough wench, fair enough," Jaime laughed, his eyes bright, before getting his phone out his pocket, "do you want pepperoni and..." Just then his voice trailed off as Jaime stared at his phone as if a small alien had just broken out of his screen and was trying to attack him.

"What's the matter?" asked Brienne, narrowing her eyes.

The answer was the same as it always was.

"Cersei," he groaned. "I was meant to take her to _Casterly_ tonight. I have thirty-seven missed calls from her."

Without another word, Jaime had lost sight of Brienne and Sansa standing before him and was frantically dialling Cersei's number. Clearly not wanting to have the conversation in front of his flatmates, Jaime bowled past them both and dashed to his bedroom, evidently wanting to hash it out with the woman he loved in the privacy of his own room. Brienne could only watch sadly as he walked away.

 _Cersei,_ she thought. _It's always Cersei..._

When she turned back to Sansa, Brienne found her friend was gazing at her sympathetically. After the evening Brienne had spent by Jaime's side - staying with him until the ambulance arrived, waiting with him in the hospital, and the escorting him home on the bus - it hurt too much to think that, during those hours, Cersei was still there hovering over them, always at the back of his mind.

"Don't," said Brienne sadly to her concerned friend, before rooting around for her own phone. "If Jaime wants to spend all evening talking to Cersei, that's his prerogative. Come, we can still have a pizza in his absence."

And so Brienne and Sansa did, conscious of Jaime begging and pleading even over the sound of the TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos :)


	4. A Normal Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne has a very normal day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for coming back for this one. Just FYI, you might recognise some of the dialogue in this chapter!

All night Brienne had to listen through the wall to Jaime begging and pleading Cersei to give him another chance.

"Cers, please just listen... look, I'm really sorry but I was in hospital... I didn't tell you because I had other people with me... I didn't want to disturb you... does it matter who was with me?... Yes, Brienne was one of them... Look, she was there when it happened and she's my best friend."

_My best friend,_ Brienne told herself, _nothing more._

The next morning, Brienne got up early so she could avoid bumping into Jaime in the kitchen. If she looked into those green eyes that she loved so well, all she would imagine was him pleading with Cersei - a woman who could not see how wonderful he was - and it would make her immensely sad. Consequently, once she had eaten her breakfast, Brienne fled the flat in favour of the fridge shop. The second she got outside, the kid next door kicked his football over the fence, and it whacked her in the head.

_Fucking brilliant,_ she thought, _what a great start to my already terrible day._

The fridge shop was in the High Street not too far away, so Brienne decided to go to the local coffee shop, _Five Bean,_ to pick up a shot of caffeine to kick start her day. Unbidden, her thoughts went back to Jaime. She wondered how he was doing; even though she believed he was being a blind idiot in regards to Cersei, Brienne knew in her heart of hearts that she wanted him to be happy.

_If he loves her as much as I think he does, I hope they can work it out,_ Brienne thought, _if only so he gets all the happiness and joy he deserves._

Caught up in thoughts of Jaime, Brienne barely noticed the moaning homeless man who she gave a few pounds to, or the street preacher who didn't seem to be saying any actual words. She only partially zoned back in once she arrived at the coffee shop and joined the queue. As the barista was taking forever, Brienne watched the TV that was playing in the corner, barely listening to what was being said by the emotionless newsreader.

"G.M. crops are being blamed for a new strain of super flu..."

"Hi, what can I get you?" asked the barista in a tired voice, causing Brienne to pull her eyes away from the screen.

"Americano to go, please."

"... unidentified mutilated corpses have been found..."

"Would you like sugar with that?"

"No thanks."

"... government sources confirm there is no need to be alarmed..."

"We're doing a promotional gift. Would you like a free slice of our new Coffee and Walnut muffin with your coffee?"

"... research is ongoing..."

Brienne nodded. "Yes please, that sounds great."

As the barista put it all in a little bag for her, he said, "that will be £4.50 please."

Reluctantly parting with her hard earned cash, Brienne turned away from the TV and the barista and left the shop, her mind once again drifting back to Jaime. He hated working at the call centre at the best of times, and if he spent all night pleasing with Cersei the Unreasonable, it would suck even more than usual for him as he would be tired as well as miserable. Concerned for his wellbeing, Brienne got her phone out to message him. Even though it hurt her that he wanted Cersei, Brienne hated to think that he might be sad.

_Brienne:_ Hey Kingslayer, do you fancy that pizza tonight? We could eat crap, watch crap on the TV, and just talk crap too xxx

It didn't take him long to reply.

_Jaime:_ It sounds amazing. I'm looking forward to it already <3

Her heart started to glow so brightly at Jaime's message that she did not spot the two people who almost came charging into her. When she tried to say sorry, Brienne noticed one of them was a police officer. "I'm sorry, Miss," he said in a gruff voice. "There's an emergency on the Underground; there are bodies on the line." A little bit confused by what that actually meant, Brienne furrowed her brow at the two officers as they dashed down the road. Deciding that it wasn't her problem, she returned to her phone and Jaime.

_Brienne:_ Ah! So excited xxx

_Jaime:_ Xxx <3

Having something to look forward too with Jaime at the end of the day, Brienne's step became a little lighter as she made her way to work. For her, joy was found in one simple word - Jaime - even if it wasn't the same for him.

_He's so out of my league,_ she thought, _that I'd be stupid to ask for anything more._

* * *

"Gather round everyone," Brienne said wearily as her colleagues at the fridge shop formed a misshapen circle around her, exchanging wary looks. Steeling herself in the face of their bored hostility, she tried to take control of the strange new situation. "Now, as well as Mr Goodwin being off sick, I'm afraid Roelle is also a bit under the weather, so I am taking charge today as I'm the..."

"Oldest," came a snigger from the back. Brienne tried to ignore it.

"I am the senior member of staff."

Holding her own against this group of feral teenage shop assistants was hard enough at the best of times for Brienne, let alone with all the other adults who worked in _Goodwin's Fridges_ off sick. Even so, she tried to hold her head up high because, at the end of the day, she wanted to go home, sit next to Jaime, and talk about her shit day. Consequently, Brienne had to spend eight hours doing labour for a capitalist dystopia before getting that small pleasure. Unfortunately, in the absence of Mr Goodwin and Roelle, it seemed Brienne's colleagues were going to make it very hard for their temporary superior.

"I'm feeling under the weather," claimed Willow, "can I have the day off?"

There was laughter at that, which only made Brienne take a very deep breath and try again. "No, Roelle _genuinely_ is ill. So we're going to have to pull together today..."

Just then, a mobile phone rang. Brienne's wasted heart briefly leapt at the thought it might be Jaime, but then Willow pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and shattered that dream. "Yeah? Hello mate."

Brienne could barely conceal her eye roll. "Willow, could you...?"

"Two seconds," replied the shop assistant, waving her hand and walking to one side to answer. "Nah, don't know. Maybe we should go to _The Inn at the Crossroads..._ Gendry and Arya might be there." Not really having enough energy to stamp down on Willow's bad behaviour and exert her authority, Brienne just played with her pen and tried not to yawn. Eventually, Willow made to hang up. "Alright man. Laters." Within a moment, she was back at the front of the gaggle of shop assistants and ordered Brienne to continue.

Sighing, knowing Willow was a natural for command whereas Brienne herself was more deferent, the temporary leader did what she was told. "Thanks, Willow. As Mr Goodwin says, _there's no I in team, but there is an I in pie..._ something about a team pie. Anyway... I don't know. Can everybody please just try and sell some fridges today?"

There was a murmur of agreement before everyone started to float off to their normal positions in the shop. Once she was hidden amongst the fridges, Brienne felt somewhat relieved of her duty at directing the group, and as they day wore on, Brienne only found herself trying to exert her authority in odd moments, such as when Willow was standing by the window texting rather than working. "Phone off please Willow. This isn't a social gathering."

Willow looked disapproving. "Alright. Keep your hair on grandma."

"Hey," spat Brienne, suddenly angry. "I'm only twenty five. How old are you? Twenty? Twenty two?"

In response to those guesses, Willow gave her a disgusted look. "Seventeen."

"Really?" Brienne said, her mouth dropping open in shock. When Willow did not look impressed, Brienne tried to smooth things over. "Look Willow, I know you don't want to be here forever. Neither do I. I got things I want to do with my life."

"What?" asked Willow disrespectfully, narrowing her eyes at Brienne.

_I want to_ do _Jaime Lannister before I die for one thing,_ she thought wickedly, _that's about the height of my ambition._

Not being able to say that out loud, however, Brienne was reduced to a mute silence that was only alleviated by Willow pointing at her shirt. "You know your pen has exploded and now you are covered in red, don't you?"

* * *

The rest of the day was pretty unexciting, even though Brienne was covered in red. At around two o'clock, a lady standing at the bus stop opposite the shop fainted, and Brienne, her colleagues and a few shoppers watched with mild interested as some onlookers kept the woman shielded from the bad weather and then called an ambulance. Things got mildly more thrilling when Sansa's mother, Catelyn, and her new boyfriend Petyr turned up late afteroon. As Sansa had soliloquised at length about what a gross monster the latter was many times before, Brienne was expecting a right old pervert. Instead, she was faced with a quiet but intense man with a small goatee, that he would not stop stroking for love nor money.

"Petyr and I need a new fridge for our flat," Cat had announced with a smile, squeezing Petyr's arm, "so I was just wondering whether you had any recommendations?"

Stroking his goatee once more, Petyr said, "Sansa said you were an expert at this sort of thing and she's a girl who seems... _full of bright ideas."_

Giving him a pained smile, Brienne walked Cat and Petyr over to the backroom, where she showed them the most expensive models with all the plush features, before downsizing to the more affordable ones when noticing Cat's expression. Cat seemed happy that Brienne had made that decision for her, while Petyr seemed sceptical and kept pushing for a more expensive one.

"But I'm not sure we can afford it..." Cat began.

"Come on, sweetling," Petyr smiled, his voice like honey, "I think we should get the _Silver Freezer_. After all, it will be good for when people come and visit. I am sure Sansa will find it most impressive..."

After felt what like fifteen years of haggling between the couple, Cat and Petyr eventually decided on the cheaper fridge, and Brienne consequently made a small bit of commission. Things were then really looking on the up as, once all the paperwork was done and Brienne had said goodbye to Sansa's mum and her demon boyfriend, it was actually the end of the day, so Brienne wasted no time in ushering her colleagues out and shutting up shop.

_I've got to go and see Jaime,_ she thought happily, _the silver lining in my otherwise lousy day._

The streets were near deserted as Brienne made her way home, all except a big group of police officers who she overheard discussing a spate of suicides on the Underground. Passing by the off license, she picked up some wine and some nibbles for her and Jaime to share. She had hoped it would be a quick stopover, but just as she got to the front of the queue, a pale, sweaty looking man came barging in front of her, his eyes wide.

"Hey," she said grumpily. "I was next!"

However, he clearly had no time for her and was instead staring at the shopkeeper, the whites of his eyes prominent and overbearing on his face. "Do you have any aspirin?" he asked, blinking rapidly. "It's urgent."

The shopkeeper shook his head. "No sorry. There's been a really high demand today..."

Not even waiting for an answer, the man ran out the shop as quickly as if he was being chased by a pack of wild dogs. While his disappearance allowed Brienne to move to the front of the queue, the weird atmosphere he had left in his wake made her feel uneasy. "What was that about?" she asked the shopkeeper, as he began to scan the items.

"Dunno," he replied. "It's strange that's all, we've had people coming in all day requesting aspirin, so I'm totally out. Maybe it's this new super flu that's going around?"

"Maybe," Brienne concurred, before paying for her items and walking away.

* * *

When Brienne finally got back to the flat, she went straight on through to the living room, drinks and nibbles in hand. "Jaime!" she cried, "I'm back! I hope you have picked some crappy television..." The second she got through to the lounge, however, she forgot all about everything else as she found Jaime sitting on the sofa looking as if the world had just ended. Although there were no tears, she could see his sadness behind his eyes and, in a moment, she had dumped the drinks and the nibbles on the table in order to run towards him.

"Oh Jaime!" she cried as she scooted into the seat next to him. "What on earth is the matter?"

Being the avoidant type of person he was, Jaime just gave her a sad smile. "The call centre's gone bust. Everyone's been made redundant."

At his simple statement of the incontrovertible truth, Brienne's stomach jumped off a cliff. She knew that Jaime struggled to keep up with the rent at the best of times, and if he lost his job, he would not necessarily be able to continue to be their flatmate. The thought of not seeing him every day was so horrifying that Brienne acted at once in a totally selfish way. "Oh, come here!" she said affectionately, opening her arms in the hope that he would find refuge with her. To her surprise, at the invitation, Jaime wasted no time in letting her envelope him in her embrace and pet his hair, nuzzling against her as he did so. Knowing this was a luxury which she would barely ever be allowed, Brienne decided to bask in his warmth, his scent, and his closeness. It was magical.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered close to his ear, wanting to soothe him anyway she could.

At her encouraging words, Jaime let out a small sigh. "It is now you are with me."

_And now you are with me, too,_ thought Brienne, _even though I know it can never be, even though I know you are Cersei's..._

_I will take the small pieces of you I can get._

Keeping their arms around each other, Jaime and Brienne stayed like that for hours and hours, as they talked crap and watched crap and eventually ate crap too. Although Jaime was sad, spending this time with him was the highlight of Brienne's week. Indeed, he was so precious to her that his proximity even managed to wash away the gnawing mediocrity of her day.

Her very normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving comments and kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne decides to bunk off work to spend the day with Jaime...


	5. Apocalypse Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne prepare for a day bunking off work, but it doesn't go exactly to plan...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming back! I hope you are enjoying this one; it's a little different from what I normally write, but I'm having great fun with it. This one has a bit of borrowed dialogue, so well done if you spot it!

When Brienne got up the following morning, she texted work and told them she was ill, had a long and soothing shower, got changed into a comfy Christmas jumper and jeans, and then went to the kitchen to make breakfast. To her surprise, Jaime was already up and casually flicking through TV channels, munching on a slice of toast as he did so. From the kitchen, Brienne could hear snippets from the various programmes Jaime whizzed by.

"Religious groups are calling it Judgement Day. There's..."

" _... Panic on the streets of London..."_

"... as an increasing number of..."

"... serious attacks on..."

"... people, who are literally being..."

"... eaten alive..."

"... Witness reports are sketchy but on unifying detail seems to be that the attackers in many instances appear to be..."

"... dead excited to have with us here..."

"... accounts of multiple unidentified assailants..."

Once she finished making her cereal, Brienne went back into the lounge and sat down next to Jaime, stealing a bite of his toast as she did so. He gave her a faux outraged look. "Mean wench, stealing my toast."

"You love me really," she smiled, before turning back to her cereal, scooping up some cornflakes with her spoon.

"Yeah, I do," he said, not taking her eyes from her face.

Amused at how serious he looked; Brienne let out a giggle. "Love you too bestie."

He gave her a strange, almost stuck on smile. "Yeah. _Bestie_."

They ate in silence for a little longer, Jaime just lazily flicking through the channels until Sansa made her appearance in the lounge. "Hey, you two," she said breezily, "I'm just going upstairs to talk to Mr Bolton about the bins. He had the cheek to say we were putting our bins on his side, and now he's gone and done the exact same thing to us. It's just not right, so I'm going to go complain!"

Jaime punched his plaster cast covered fist into the air. "Wooo! You go Sansa. Girl Power."

"Thanks for your support, Jaime," said Sansa with a smile. "After I've finished with Ramsay, I'll come back here to pick up a few things before I go to work. Will you have left by then, Brienne?"

"No, because I'm not going to work today," replied Brienne, trying to hide her excitement best she could. "Considering everything that happened, I think it's only right I stay and look after Jaime."

At that precise moment, Brienne was very glad Jaime was still engrossed with the TV, as Sansa fixed Brienne with a look that clearly said, _by "look after" I assume you mean stare at him all day like you want to shag his brains out,_ before giving a little shake of her head. "Alright, have fun you two."

"We will!" called Jaime, just as Sansa turned around and disappeared through the front door. Once she was gone, Jaime moved closer to Brienne, leaning his head on her shoulder, "come on, wench, I need some looking after."

Fearing he was getting a little too close, Brienne withdrew from Jaime and went to pick up his plate and her bowl from the coffee table. "In a minute," she smiled, getting to her feet just as Jaime started pouting at her, "hey, I'm just putting this in the dishwasher and then I'll come back."

"You'd better," grinned Jaime, "I'll keep your seat warm."

Feeling a little bit dazed by his pretty smile, Brienne took the plate and bowl into the kitchen before returning back into the lounge. She was all ready to sit down for a day of crappy TV with Jaime when something she could see through the French doors caught her attention. Walking forward, Brienne went to stare at the strange thing in their garden, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Jaime."

"Mmm?"

"There's a girl in our garden."

Jaime turned to look at her from the sofa, his brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there is a girl in the garden," repeated Brienne, watching as the woman before her began to shuffle towards the back fence, her gait staggering and slightly odd. "Come have a look."

Obeying in an instant, Jaime came to stand beside Brienne, and adopted the same perplexed look as they watched as this unknown woman stare at the fence, not moving. It was weirdly creepy. "What should we do?" asked Jaime, turning to Brienne for direction.

"Er... maybe go and ask her what the hell she's doing in out garden? She might need help."

"Alright," agreed Jaime, tucking behind Brienne, "but you go first."

Rolling her eyes at him being an uncharacteristic cowardly custard, Brienne made her way towards the French doors, Jaime in tow. Quite strangely, even the sound of the two of them unlocking the door and stepping outside did not disrupt the woman, who just continued to stare at the fence. Not knowing what to say, it was a gentle nudge in the ribs from Jaime that eventually inspired Brienne to speak.

"Excuse me," she said, before clearing her throat. To Brienne's surprise, the girl did not answer, so Brienne tried again. "I said _excuse me."_

When that elicited no response, Jaime yelled, "oi! Listen to my wench!"

"Jaime!" scolded Brienne, "that wasn't very polite!"

He visibly bristled at that, "I don't care. _She's_ not being very polite."

Perhaps it was Jaime's aggressive tone, or that the wind changed direction, but at that moment, the girl turned around and Brienne's jaw dropped open in horror. There was no mistaking it; she looked very, very ill. Her skin had lost all natural colour and was now a deathly grey, while her hair was matted, uncared for. Worst of all was her eyes, which were icy blue, glassy, and not focussed properly. Even her clothes were ripped and torn, the badge at her breast inscribed with the word _Karsi_ the only thing in the whole ensemble that looked remotely normal.

"Jaime," said Brienne, her voice low, "I think we should..."

"Oh my god she's _so_ drunk," laughed Jaime, clutching at his sides, "how much have you had, love?"

Even as Jaime was laughing raucously, Brienne continued to watch Karsi with uneasy eyes, trying to understand what she was seeing. If this was what she thought it was - no, it couldn't be what she thought it was - then what she was looking at was a...

Just then, Karsi lunged forward, her arms outstretched, heading straight for Brienne. The sight just made Jaime laugh louder. "Oooh," he teased, "she likes you."

"Shut up, Jaime," murmured Brienne, not quite believing what she was seeing even as Karsi came closer and closer.

"I think she wants a cuddle," chuckled Jaime, seemingly oblivious to the truth of the situation.

When Karsi got too close, Brienne raised her arms, totally weirded out by the situation in front of her, "look, you seem really nice, but I am actually into someone else... AH!"

Paying for her indecision, Brienne was flung back by Karsi as the scary looking woman jumped on her, pushing her to the ground. Although Brienne was bigger, there was something weirdly strong about Karsi, and it was all that Brienne could do to keep her very sharp teeth from her neck, as the woman starting growling at her like a starving animal.

"Jaime!" shrieked Brienne, "do something!"

"Oh god this is hilarious," he laughed, "you are getting attacked by a drunk girl in our garden." Getting his phone out, Jaime took a quick photo, and at the flash, Karsi stopped attacking Brienne and turned to look at him, still snarling. Clearly, in that moment, it suddenly dawned on Jaime on what exactly he was seeing.

Karsi was not a drunk girl.

She was a zombie.

"What the fuck is wrong with her eyes?" he shouted, panic overcoming him.

"I don't know," squawked Brienne, still trying to get Karsi off her, "just _please..._ help me Jaime!" With the truth of the whole situation now upon him, Jaime looked positively horrified, and Brienne had to beg to get him to focus. "Jaime! Get her off me!"

"Oh, yes!" he shouted, before heading back into the house, "I'll be back in a sec."

Rolling her eyes at his sheer ineptitude, Brienne then had to continue to wrestle with the super strong Karsi while Jaime pratted about inside trying to find something to help Brienne with. A few moments later he returned with a rolling pin and wasted no time in whacking Karsi across the face with it so hard that she was propelled backwards.

"Get off my wench, bitch," he growled as Brienne scrambled to her feet. She knew the correct emotion to be feeling at that moment was fear, but she had to admit she felt a little hot as she tucked herself behind Jaime and let him protect her with a rolling pin.

"Thanks," she whispered in his ear.

"You're welcome," he replied, just as Karsi made to stumble forward again, this time aiming for Jaime.

However, he was ready. When the zombie got close enough, Jaime swung his left arm back before bringing the rolling pin firmly into Karsi's stomach. The impact sent her stumbling backwards and, because she did not seem in total control of her feet, Karsi collapsed. Unfortunately for her, the trajectory of her fall meant she plummeted right into the broken end of their old washing line, which impaled her straight through the chest, a fountain of blood bursting forth as it did so.

Brienne just blinked.

Jaime said "urgh."

And then, the worst imaginable thing happened... because Karsi got _up._

"Oh my god," muttered Jaime, as Karsi stood up to her full height, a huge hole through the centre of her chest where the washing line pole had been. As he was frozen to the spot, Brienne had to grab hold of his arm to spur him into action.

"I think we should go back inside," said Brienne quietly, pulling at Jaime with increasing urgency.

"That sounds like a very good idea wench," he replied, just as one of their fencing panels fell down and another grey-skinned, blue-eyed zombie came stumbling into their garden.

_Oh fuck,_ thought Brienne, _what the hell is going on?_

Grabbing Jaime's plaster cast, Brienne yanked him back into the house, before slamming the door behind him and dashing round to all the windows, pulling the curtains shut so she did not have to see the reality of what was going on outside. Jaime was just standing stock still, the rolling pin still in his hand, staring at her with his beautiful green eyes as if he could not believe what he had just seen.

"What were they, wench?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

"I don't know," replied Brienne honestly, before dashing over to the TV, quickly searching for the News Channel. As she did so, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried to call the emergency services. To her horror, she only got the dialling tone.

"What's going on, Brienne?" Jaime inquired, the panic palpably rising in his voice.

"Shit," she muttered, hanging up. "It's engaged."

"What about an ambulance?"

"It's busy, Jaime."

"Fire engine?"

"Jaime," Brienne said exasperatedly, "it's one number and it's busy. Why do you want a fire engine anyway?"

Fixing her with a mad-eyed expression, Jaime croaked, "anything with flashing lights would be bloody brilliant at the moment, don't you think?"

Knowing she was going to get no help from the emergency services, Brienne turned back to the TV and once again began to channel surf, hoping to find someone that could tell her what was going on. Soon, she was greeted by the reassuring face of Barristan Selmy, the BBC News Reporter, who was wearing a sombre expression.

"... although it has been hard to establish how this could have happened on such a wide scale and so rapidly, environmental health officials have refused to confirm that the phenomenon is the result of a virus."

Jaime went over to the window and opened the curtains, so he could compare the sight of Karsi and the other man roaming around the garden to the zombie horror hordes that BBC News was showing them on the TV. "I think it's the same thing," he muttered hoarsely, "whatever this _phenomenon_ is... it's happening in our garden."

At Jaime's tone, Brienne's own panic started to rise, and she just continued to stare at Barristan Selmy, hoping he would give them answers. "The Home Office are asking people to stay in their houses. Ensure your residences are secure with all windows and doors firmly locked."

Without a second thought, Jaime leapt into action and began charging around the flat locking any door or window he could get his hands on. It was in that instant that Brienne realised that, if this was truly the end of the world, at least she had Jaime with her. Together, they could do anything, survive anything.

_The Kingslayer and the Wench._

When Jaime came back into the lounge, he looked marginally calmer. "I think we'll be alright, wench, if we just stay in here..."

"AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

Both Jaime and Brienne froze at the scream, which had broken through into their little sanctuary as loud as a cracking whip. "What the fuck was that?" asked Jaime eventually, looking around wildly. Listening carefully, Brienne tuned into the sound of running feet coming from the upstairs flat. At the unmistakeable sound of terror, Brienne remembered that the world was bigger than just her and Jaime, and there was now someone upstairs who sounded very, very scared.

"Sansa," she rasped. "She went upstairs to see Ramsay."

Not hesitating, Jaime tightened his grip on the rolling pin and gave Brienne a firm look. "Come on, wench," he said, trying to make her feel better by quoting his LARPing character, the Kingslayer. "Let's go and rescue Sansa Stark. She's our last chance at honour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you thought of it in a comment or kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne go to rescue Sansa from their upstairs neighbour.


	6. Upstairs Neighbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne try to rescue Sansa...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back! I am doing a little reworking on the plot structure of this one, so it may be a little slower than my usual post times, but I hope you enjoy. There's a little bit of dialogue stealing in this one, so well done if you spot it! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos.

"This is a stupid plan," whispered Brienne, as Jaime handed her _Oathkeeper._ "How the hell are we going to save Sansa with two blunt cosplay swords?"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, but have you got any other ideas?"

"Not particularly."

"Well then," he grinned, as if they were not in the middle of a very, very strange and dangerous situation. "This is our brilliant plan we are going to use to save Sansa."

Knowing she really had little choice, Brienne sighed and began to follow Jaime down the hallway to the bottom of the stairs, then crept towards Ramsay's flat behind him, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Since the scream, they had not heard anything from the upstairs flat and part of Brienne was worried that they were too late to save Sansa, that they were too...

"Brienne," whispered Jaime.

"Mmm?"

"Stop worrying," he smiled, "I can see you worrying."

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Jaime... Ramsay's flat might be swarmed with those _things..."_

"Yeah, and it might not be," said Jaime chirpily, "so keep calm until then."

It was therefore to Brienne's surprise and relief that, when they entered Ramsay's upstairs flat, the place was eerily peaceful. The front door was ajar, allowing Jaime and Brienne to slip inside, _Oathkeeper_ and _Widow's Wail_ held aloft. The only sound was from the TV in the lounge, echoing through the small space, getting louder and louder as they approached the main room. Using as little force as possible, Jaime pushed open the door to the lounge, causing Brienne to gasp at the scene before them. As they expected, the TV was on, playing a broadcast from BBC news about how best to deal with what they were terming the Zombie Apocalypse. What they were not anticipating however, was to see Sansa holed up in a corner, wielding a chair as a weapon in order to keep fully zombified Ramsay off her.

"Thank god you are here!" she shouted, batting Ramsay away with the chair. "What the hell is going on?"

As he desperately tried to reach for Sansa, their usually scary neighbour now looked positively terrifying; Ramsay's ice grey eyes were now an unearthly blue, his pale skin a putrid grey, and there was a rather nasty looking slash across his throat. However, Brienne barely saw him as her eyes were on Sansa, who was stuck in a very tricky situation.

"Zombie Apocalypse," replied Jaime, as he went dashing into the room, holding _Widow's Wail_ in his left hand. Brienne followed, coming to stand behind Zombie Ramsay, her sword the twin of Jaime's. To their surprise however, Zombie Ramsay did not turn around and look at them but stayed fixated on Sansa, groaning and trying to paw at her as he did so. Eventually, it took Jaime yelling, "oi! We're over here pea brain!" for Ramsay to turn around.

"Could you really not have come up with something better?" asked Brienne as Zombie Ramsay turned towards them, his staggering gait obvious.

"Err... does it matter?" Jaime asked, backing up as Zombie Ramsay got closer and closer and closer.

"Yes!" squeaked Brienne, "I wouldn't want my last words to be _we're over here pea brain!"_

Jaime was just about to respond to Brienne's point, when Sansa interrupted. "What are you going to do?" she cried, lowering the chair slightly and frantically looking around for a better weapon, "all three of us are going to be trapped in here unless you do something!"

Just then, the BBC News Reporter, Barristan Selmy, interrupted Sansa's panic from the TV. "The Home Office are asking people to stay in their houses. Ensure your residences are secure with all windows and doors firmly locked..."

"But what do we do when the zombies are in our house Barristan?" shouted Jaime, as if the BBC News Reporter would answer him. With every passing second of fear, adrenaline, and waving their cosplay swords uselessly in the air, Ramsay drew closer and closer, snarling.

"Avoid contact with these individuals," suggested Barristan.

"Bit late for that," muttered Jaime, as Ramsay moved within arm's distance.

"We're expecting information from the Home Office regarding the best way to neutralize the attackers, as they are seemingly impervious to conventional force..." declared Barristan, which only made Brienne's heart sink.

"I told you coming in here with our cosplay swords was a shit plan!" cried Brienne, while Jaime swiped his sword in front of them both in an effort to keep Zombie Ramsay at bay.

"Did you have a better one?" asked Jaime exasperatedly.

Before their bickering could get too over the top, Barristan Selmy interrupted once more. "In the meantime, contact with these assailants is highly inadvisable. Officials suggest that, in extreme circumstances, the attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain."

Finally having the solution to their problem, Brienne turned to Jaime and caught his eye, the two of them weighing up who would actually have the ignoble task of smashing Ramsay's brains in. However, the situation was eventually solved by Sansa, who picked up a glass ashtray from the side, ran across the room and, using the element of surprise, brought it cracking down onto Ramsay's head. At the impact, the zombie fell like a sack of potatoes, a nasty gash through his head signifying that Barristan Selmy's advice had been worthwhile.

"Removing the head or destroying the brain," mumbled Jaime, as Sansa attempted to wipe the splattered blood from her coat, "got it."

Feeling safer, Jaime and Brienne lowered their swords and then turned to look at Sansa, who was staring at them both incredulously. "Next time," she began, her tone exasperated, "could one of you just decapitate the zombie with your swords, please?" The two of them had the good grace to look a little sheepish as Sansa came to stand next to them, her eyes wide. "So, what do we do now? Go and lock ourselves in our flat until this whole thing blows over?"

Jaime shook his head. "We've already had to fight off a zombie in our garden. I don't know if..."

They never heard what Jaime did not know, however, as Barristan Selmy interrupted again. "Scientists have now confirmed that in all cases, people receiving bites have experienced headaches and nausea and developed symptoms similar to those displayed by their attackers. If you know someone who has been bitten it is absolutely essential that you isolate them immediately."

The three of them exchanged a worried glance.

"Have either of you been bitten?" Brienne asked. When both Jaime and Sansa shook their heads in unison, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Good. Okay, I think our best plan is to get out of here. Karsi is still in the garden, and who knows if we've got rid of Ramsay once and for all."

"But where would we go?" asked Jaime. "At least we know the flats. We could work out how best to defend them."

Brienne shook her head, "I imagine there are other places that are more defendable. There are too many entrances and exits here, and we are too close to other people."

"Then what do you think we should do?" inquired Jaime.

Lost for words, Brienne turned to Sansa, who instantly got her phone out. "I think there might be safety in numbers," Sansa said, flicking through her contacts, "an army of the living might be needed to take out the army of the dead."

Jaime smiled at that prospect; he always enjoyed at bit of action. "Who do you suggest?"

Sansa shrugged. "I don't know, the usual crowd. Perhaps we should just ring people we know and see where they are hunkering down for safety? It might give us an idea of what to do."

"Good plan," replied Brienne, "let's get on it."

Consequently, the three of them spent the next five minutes trying to get hold of everyone they cared about to check they were alright. Brienne's father was hunkered down in his cellar on his farm in the Isle of Wight. Tyrion just screamed "I'LL CALL YOU BACK" very loudly down the phone when Jaime rang him. Arya and Gendry were unreachable. Bran and Rickon were hiding in the crypts of their University Chapel. Robb was in Singapore so was probably still asleep. And last but not least was Catelyn, who Sansa put on loudspeaker so everyone could hear.

"Hello?"

"Mum!" cried Sansa, relieved. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes..." replied Catelyn slowly, seemingly hiding something.

Sansa narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure?"

There was a pause. "Some men tried to get into the house."

"Are they still there?" asked Sansa, panicked.

Brienne could almost hear Catelyn shaking her head. "I'm not sure. We've shut the curtains."

"Did you call the police?"

"I thought about it," replied Catelyn, a little evasively. That only made Sansa more worried.

"Are you okay?" she asked, choked. "Did they hurt you?"

"No," said Catelyn, "I'm fine... I'm fine..."

"Mum?" asked Sansa, her tone probing.

It made Catelyn's poorly built shield crumble. "Well, they were a bit bitey."

At that comment, Jaime, Brienne, and Sansa all exchanged a worried look. They had all heard what Barristan Selmy had said about what happened to people who were bitten. "Oh my God, Mum," cried Sansa, "did they bite _you_?"

"No," replied Catelyn swiftly, "but Petyr has been. I gave him some paracetamol."

"What state is he in?" asked Sansa, who Brienne could see was imagining blue eyes and grey skin on her Mum's weird boyfriend.

Catelyn's responding tone was entirely too blasé considering the situation. "Oh, he's fine. A bit under the weather."

Sansa instantly put her mother on mute, so she could not hear them. "Guys, I think we may have to decapitate my mum's boyfriend."

"Oh, okay," said Jaime, nodding as if that was an everyday kind of suggestion, just as Sansa brought her mum back into the conversation.

"Look, Mum, you are not safe there," declared Sansa. "We are going to come and get you."

Catelyn's tone grew thin. "Oh, I don't want to cause a fuss."

"It's not a fuss," interjected Brienne, her tone impassioned, "we'll all be better off if we stick together, so we will come and get you and find somewhere safe to bunker down until this is all over. We promise."

"Oh, hello Brienne," said Catelyn, her voice light, "I didn't even realise you were on the line."

"Yes, I am, and I promise we are coming to protect you. We won't be long," declared Brienne, before pressing the button that made them hang up on Catelyn. In the resultant silence, Sansa and Jaime turned to Brienne, clearly looking for direction.

"So," began Jaime, "what's the plan, wench?"

Thinking for a moment, Brienne then started to piece together her very rudimentary plan, even though she knew it had flaws. "Right... we'll take my car and drive over to Catelyn's. Once there, we'll decapitate Petyr and then the three of us and Catelyn will go over to Cersei's place and wait there until all this blows over."

Sansa and Jaime's expressions were both quite incredulous. "Cersei's place?" spluttered Jaime, "why would we go to Cersei's place?"

Brienne rolled her eyes, irritated that Jaime could not see his own heart as well as she could. "Because she's your girlfriend and you love her."

" _Ex_ -girlfriend, I..."

"And anyway," Brienne continued, not wanting to hear it, "in the event of a zombie apocalypse, Cersei Smith is the kind of terrifying human that I would want on my side to help withstand it. Don't you think?"

Jaime's beautiful green eyes were on her, gazing at her confusedly, but eventually he nodded, finally seeing Brienne's side. "Okay, that _is_ a good point."

Knowing that statement was just a cover for the extent of Jaime's love for Cersei, Brienne turned away, only to discover the mantle for coming up with the plan had passed to Sansa. "Alright," Sansa said, putting her hands on her hips, "that's not a half bad plan, but if we hole up somewhere, I don't want it to be at Cersei's. I want to be somewhere familiar."

"Like where?" asked Brienne.

"I want to be somewhere where I know the exits are and have a constant supply of pork scratchings," announced Sansa, as if she were describing the obvious place to bunker down for a siege.

"Okay..." said Jaime slowly, taking up the reins. "Right, so we take Brienne's car. Get your Mum. Kill Petyr. Go to Cersei's, pick her up..."

"And Euron and Melara too, I suppose," interjected Brienne.

"Go to Cersei's, pick up her, Euron, and Melara," corrected Jaime, "and then go to _The Winterfell_ where we hunker on down with a cold one and a pack of _Nobby's Nuts_ until this whole thing blows over _."_

"Perfect," smiled Sansa, "if we need to defend ourselves against the army of the dead, _The Winterfell_ will be the perfect place to do it!"

Brienne nodded slowly in agreement. "Okay, it sounds like a plan, but first things first."

"What?" asked Jaime.

Knowing that this was the beginning of the fight back, Brienne cracked her knuckles, trying to feel tough. "Firstly, we need to sharpen our blades; blunt cosplay swords will do us no good. Secondly, we should get snacks. Although I love the crisp selection at _The Winterfell,_ if we are there for a while, I might want some decent food. And finally, we need to get Sansa a proper weapon."

That seemed to excite Sansa, and she smiled excitedly. "Any ideas?"

Jaime shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't know... would a rolling pin suit?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a comment or kudos! I love them!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime, Brienne, and Sansa go to Catelyn's house.


	7. Mum's House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime, Brienne, and Sansa go to rescue Catelyn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! Sorry for the long delay on this one, I was just moving things around slightly in later chapters. I think I've got it together now, so I hope you enjoy. There's a teeny bit of stolen dialogue in this one, so well done if you spot it!

Armed with two sharpened cosplay swords and a rolling pin, Brienne, Jaime, and Sansa stood by their front door, peering through the frosted glass window, trying to get their bearings.

"The road is swamped with zombies," said Brienne, her tone worried.

Even though Brienne herself sounded nervous and Sansa's face was pale, Jaime seemed to completely miss their fear, and went for something jovial. "Do you think that's the technical term?" he asked, looking genuinely curious.

Brienne raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Are you genuinely questioning whether we should be calling them zombies?"

"Yeah," replied Jaime, smiling. "Barristan Selmy just kept calling them _assailants_ on the telly, and at cosplay, Sam always calls them the Others."

Brienne rolled her eyes. "No. That's the ice zombies from the Far North. These zombies are probably parallels to the wights, as they seem to have no agency of their own other than their need to feed."

"Do you really think so?" asked Jaime, considering her point. "It's quite possible then that there is someone controlling them..."

"Oh shut up, both of you!" interrupted Sansa suddenly, biting her nails nervously. "I don't care what they are bloody called, I just want to get to Brienne's car!"

Brienne held up her free hand, trying to calm the situation down. "Sansa, it's going to be okay. Jaime, can you give me an accurate summation of the zombie situation?"

"Err..."

"Don't say that!" interrupted Sansa again.

"What?" asked Brienne.

"The Z word!"

"Zombie?" replied Brienne, surprised.

Sansa shivered in disgust, "yes! It makes it feel too real."

Suppressing an eye roll, Brienne turned to Jaime once more. "Jaime, can you give me an accurate summation of the _wight_ situation?"

Jaime looked at her confusedly. "You've already said it, wench. The road is swamped with them."

"Oh yeah," replied Brienne, a little downhearted that their prospects had not improved in twenty seconds. "Right then, we're just going to have to run for it."

"What?" squawked Sansa, her eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, but we don't really have much choice," said Brienne, gripping the hilt of _Oathkeeper_ a little tighter. "We've got to run."

"Run?" cried Sansa incredulously. "But we can't do that! We'll all die!"

Jaime shrugged his shoulders. "We'll all die if we stay here too; Karsi would probably love to feast on our brains. So, come on! We haven't got much choice."

After a few more minutes of Jaime and Brienne giving Sansa an encouraging pep talk, Brienne eventually put her hand on the door handle, ready to open it. "Right, is everyone clear of the plan. Sansa, you unlock the car. If they attack us, Jaime and I will keep them at bay with our swords until we can get to safety. Is everyone agreed?"

"Agreed," said Jaime and Sansa in unison, the former lifting _Widow's Wail,_ the latter her rolling pin.

It therefore turned out to be quite disappointing that the zombies all walked so slowly that the three of them could charge up the drive, leap into Brienne's pink Mini Cooper and be away before any of the undead even noticed. Even so, once they were safely in the car, Sansa was still intent onn winning an Oscar for overreacting in her response to a zombie with a missing arm looking in her general direction.

"It's their eyes!" she gasped, clutching her chest, as Brienne kicked the car into life. "They freak me out so much."

"Well," began Jaime, "hopefully we can get to _The Winterfell_ and get them out of our hair."

In spite of Jaime's optimism, as the three of them started driving down the road towards Catelyn's house, it seemed less and less likely that they would just be able to simply get the zombies _out of their hair,_ as the movement of their car inevitably attracted more of the empty-eyed dead. To distract them from the constant moaning and a-groaning coming from outside the window, Jaime eventually turned on the radio, all in the name of lightening the mood.

"Religious groups have taken this as evidence of a coming apocalypse," announced the newsreader, "as the bodies of the recently deceased coming back to life continue to grow in number..."

"Can you please put something else on?" asked Brienne, not liking to hear about the end of the world as well as see it with her own eyes. "Just not any of that crappy gangster rap you like."

Jaime rolled his eyes. "I'm not putting on any of your classical shit then."

"My classical shit will be calming," declared Brienne.

Jaime snorted. "I don't want to feel calm."

"Why not?" asked Brienne, surprised.

"Because I might have to bash a zombie's head in!" Jaime laughed. "And I don't think _calm_ is very conducive to that."

"I don't think that hyped up on gangster rap is going to put you in the right mood either," insisted Brienne. "It will make you all... het up, which I'm not sure is much good."

Jaime raised an eyebrow at her, salacious and scandalised, "depends what type of _het up_ you mean."

Just then, Brienne noticed Catelyn's house at the end of the road. Slowing down, she turned to Jaime, desperately trying to work out what he was getting at. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, completely lost.

For some reason, Jaime seemed a little knocked off kilter at Brienne's direct question, so he dropped the eye contact, instead preferring to gaze at his plaster cast. Consequently, the ensuing silence gave room for Sansa to interrupt. "What it means," she said tersely, looking from Jaime to Brienne and back again, "is that it is the end of the world and you two still can't see what is right under your noses. You are both _het up._ "

Inhaling suddenly at Sansa's mentioning of her wasted, painful feelings for her lovable flatmate, Brienne was overwhelmed by the desire to do anything other than look at Jaime in that moment, fearing she would see disgust or worse... pity. Trying to take control of the situation, Brienne grabbed hold of the gear stick, forcefully lowering the gears as they pulled into Catelyn's drive. Once they had pulled up, Brienne picked up _Oathkeeper_ and _,_ still not looking at Jaime, leapt out of the car, not really caring she might be savaged by zombies if it meant she did not have to feel trapped under her best friend's gaze.

_Never tell people that you are in love with them,_ Brienne thought. _It only makes you look stupid and feel vulnerable._

* * *

Five minutes later, Brienne, Sansa, and Catelyn were standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, as was to be expected when the zombie apocalypse broke out in English suburbia. Focussed on topical issues, Sansa and Catelyn were busy nattering away about the terrible situation the world now found itself plunged into, while Brienne was watching Jaime through the serving hatch. He was standing by the door to the lounge, _Widow's Wail_ in hand, eyeing up the back of the armchair in front of the TV which Petyr was sitting in. It had been decided that it was best if he dispatched Zombie Petyr, as Sansa was Cat's daughter Brienne and Sansa's mum had always been close. In contrast, no one would be bothered if Jaime Lannister sullied his reputation even more with a bit of zombie killing, even Jaime himself.

"What, wench?" he had asked teasingly back in the car when he saw that Brienne disapproved of him relying on his bad reputation to win out in the _Who Kills Petyr_ competition, "I'm the Kingslayer. I'm a _bad boy,_ don't you know?"

However, as it turned out, the problem was that the real Jaime Lannister was a softie at heart who wasn't one of life's natural predators. Give Cersei a sword, sure, she would have decapitated Petyr in five seconds flat, but Jaime was having a much tougher time of it. Gearing himself up, Jaime was sort of half-heartedly waving _Widow's Wail_ around in the general direction of Petyr's head while trying to summon the courage to do the deed. It would have almost been funny if the situation wasn't so serious.

It was only when Sansa's tone turned annoyed that Brienne's attention was pulled away from Jaime and back to the conversation in the kitchen.

"Mum," said Sansa a little tersely, "we really do not have time for tea. Jaime, Brienne, and I are here to get you somewhere safe."

Catelyn folded her arms across her chest, wanting to hold her ground. "But we've got to wait for the doctor."

"I don't know if the doctor's coming," replied Sansa, shooting a concerned look in Brienne's direction. However, Brienne did not meet her eye as she was too busy staring at Jaime once again, who had finally found the courage to swing _Widow's Wail_ up above his head, ready to bring it cracking down on Petyr's skull.

At Sansa's response, Catelyn threw her hands up in the air in resigned surrender. "Well, I'm not sure Petyr is going to want to leave the house, are you darling?"

"What?" answered Petyr suddenly, turning around as he got to his feet, forcing Jaime to lift the sword further above his head to make it appear as if he were stretching. Even though it _was_ a serious situation, Brienne had to supress a chuckle at that ridiculous sight.

"You don't want to leave the house, do you?" asked Catelyn again.

"No," grumbled Petyr, shooting a confused look at the stretchin Jaime, "I don't."

When Petyr turned fully towards the serving hatch, Sansa let out a little gasp as she got her first proper look at him since she entered her Mum's house. Brienne knew that Sansa had no love for her mother's slightly inappropriate boyfriend, but this was the first time that Petyr had ever looked truly terrifying. His was drenched with sweat, his skin was an eerie shade of grey and his eyes looked very red.

"See," interjected Catelyn in response to Petyr's confirmation of her suspicion, as if she had just proved the meaning of life.

Ignoring what her Mum was saying, Sansa nevertheless tried to appear firm. "The three of us have come to take you somewhere safe."

Catelyn went to reply, but Petyr cut across her. "Don't be silly, I'm not going anywhere." 

Still not looking at him, Sansa snapped, "well, maybe _you_ should stay here and wait for the doctor, Petyr. I'll take Mum."

"You said the doctor wasn't coming," interjected Catelyn, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh, you didn't call the doctor did you?" moaned Petyr, a hint of disgust in his voice.

"I thought it was best," chimed in Catelyn, wringing her hands. "I just thought it was best to be safe."

Petyr sighed. "I'm quite alright, Catelyn. I've run it under a cold tap!"

"I don't think that would..." interrupted Jaime, but Brienne shot him a warning look. Everyone in the room bar Catelyn and Petyr himself seemed to appreciate what this bite meant, but Brienne did not think the truth was best coming from Jaime, the most untactful man on the planet.

"It's all a load of overblown nonsense, what they're saying on the news," continued Petyr, "I bet it is just a bunch of drugnuts running wild. Nothing is ever truly what it seems. There is normally some spider in Whitehall behind these things, playing some massive game of 4D Chess that the pawns can't really see."

As Sansa had started to look a little despairing at Petyr's attitude, Brienne tried to take over. "Still, we should get Cat away, in case they come back."

Catelyn shook her head vehemently. "I'm not going anywhere without Petyr."

Brienne sighed. She knew that Cat had been clinging to her childhood friend turned boyfriend for comfort after Ned's sudden death in a car accident a year earlier, but it was irritating to see the usually resourceful and resilient Cat reduced to idiocy in the face of evidence and co-dependency. If Brienne ever found anyone to love her, she would not let their relationship get to that stage.

_Not that I will, mind,_ thought Brienne, _because my heart belongs to that doofus in the lounge, who would give himself to any woman in the world before me._

Sensing that Sansa was about to get quite cross with her mother, Brienne turned the kettle off and then peered at the two red-haired women. "Come on, let's go and talk about this in the bedroom. Jaime, why don't you keep an eye on Petyr? We will be back in a moment."

At Brienne's instruction, Jaime gave her a subtle nod as Petyr sat back down, clearly thinking he had won the argument. Luckily for Catelyn's boyfriend, however, he did not see Jaime grip the hilt of _Widow's Wail_ tighter, preparing to defend himself if the moment came. It was a gesture that was evidently missed by Catelyn, who allowed herself to be led into the bedroom in the name of a girly chat. Once there, Sansa wasted no time.

"Mum?"

"Mmm?"

"How much do you love Petyr?"

Quite suddenly, the Catelyn Brienne knew came back, all flamed-haired fury. "Oh, not this again, Sansa..."

"It's a legitimate question, Mum!" proclaimed Sansa, "and not just for the usual reasons that we all give you about him being an all-around creep, but for the fact that he has clearly been bitten by one of _them_ and we don't quite know what that means." Of course, Sansa _did_ know what it meant - that Petyr would soon be a blue-eyed monster - but she clearly wanted to keep her mother on side as much as possible, so she kept the truth to the minimum.

"It will be alright when the doctor comes," insisted Catelyn, as if it were still remotely plausible that the doctor would be doing a call specially to visit Petyr, "he'll give Petyr some antibiotics or something."

Sansa let out an almost imperceptible small groan. "Mum, the doctor is not..."

"Wait a second," said Brienne, interrupting Sansa's descent into annoyance, "I have an idea."

"What?" asked Sansa and Cat in time, their voices sharing an almost identical timbre.

Knowing it was not the best plan in the world, but realising she had to do _something_ to persuade Catelyn to leave the house, Brienne started putting together what sounded like a reasonable proposal as quickly as she could. "Jaime, Sansa, and I decided that the best place to go to ride this all out was probably _The Winterfell."_

" _The Winterfell!"_ squawked Catelyn, horrified, clearly not thinking the place made a good safehouse, "but it's a pub!"

"We think it would be easy to defend," countered Brienne, not fully believing it even as she said it, "but first, we are going to pick up Cersei, Euron, and Melara."

Catelyn stared at Brienne blankly. "Who are Cersei, Euron, and Melara?"

Suddenly feeling a lump blooming in her throat at the thought of having to describe Cersei as Jaime's _girlfriend,_ Brienne was relieved when Sansa took over. "Cersei is Jaime's girlfriend and Euron and Melara are her flatmates."

"Exactly," continued Brienne, regaining control of the narrative, "but, most importantly of all, Euron is a _doctor_ and Melara is a nurse _._ If you and Petyr came with us to _The Winterfell_ , they would surely help you." Even as the words came tumbling out of her mouth, Brienne knew they were not god's honest truth. Euron was a lecturer in biomedical sciences (or, as Jaime liked to call it, Fake Medicine), while Melara was actually an actress who had a recurring role as a ditzy nurse on a daytime soap. Still, it was close enough to the truth that Brienne thought it might persuade Sansa's Mum.

Catelyn thought about it for a moment, stroking her chin with her thumb and forefinger. "Are you sure this Euron and Melara could help Petyr?"

"Of course," smiled Sansa, suddenly sweetness and light. "They would be happy to help." If Brienne had told a lie, Sansa was truly over-egging the pudding, as if there was one thing that they both knew about Euron, it was that he was a total twat.

After a few seconds longer of consideration, Catelyn eventually nodded. "Okay, let's go and see this Euron and Melara. As you said, I don't think the doctor is coming."

"Brilliant," said Brienne, half-relieved that Catelyn was agreed to come with them but half-terrified that they were taking a Petyr-shaped ticking time bomb along with them for the ride. "Sansa, why don't you and Catelyn work at getting a small bag together of things you might need? I'll go and tell Jaime and Petyr the new plan."

"Okay," agreed Sansa, interrupting Catelyn so her Mum could not start up yet another debate that could delay their departure even further.

Once Sansa and Catelyn began to follow her instructions, Brienne marched back out to the lounge to discover Jaime and Petyr having an awkward conversation about Sansa, specifically Petyr was asking what shampoo brand she used. "Right guys," interrupted Brienne, trying to feel less grossed out, "slight change of plan."

Jaime cocked a suspicious eyebrow at her. "What's the change?"

"We're taking Catelyn _and_ Petyr with us," she said quickly, feeling blurting the truth out was the best way to proceed. Sensing that Jaime was going to object, Brienne ploughed on. "We're going to take Petyr to Euron; he is a doctor after all."

Jaime let out a huff of laughter at that statement and went to make a rude joke about Cersei's flatmate, but Petyr interrupted. "Oh, I told you not to worry about a doctor."

"It would make us all feel better if you did see a doctor," Brienne proclaimed, "to make sure there is nothing wrong with your wound."

At Brienne's ominous statement, Petyr started to look a little nervous. "What could be wrong with it?"

"I don't know," lied Brienne, before affecting a nonchalant shrug, "but it is better to be safe than sorry."

Clearly considering that a reasonable line of argument, Petyr nodded, his expression unreadable. "Okay," he said, finally resigned to the need to leave the house, "but let me go and get some things from the bathroom. Cat is bound to forget some useful supplies."

Seeing no reason to stop him, Brienne let Petyr leave, feeling the fear mounting in the pit of her stomach when she noted his staggering, zombified gait. Noticing it too, Jaime kept his voice hushed even once Petyr had closed the door behind him. "What do we do if he turns?" he asked, his green eyes wide and filled with a kind of trepidation that Brienne had never seen in him before.

"We do what we have to do," she responded, tightening her grip on _Oathkeeper._ "We must put our own lives before respect for the dead, or for the memory of who these people once were."

Jaime nodded, swallowing nervously, and Brienne found herself entranced by the bob of his Adam's Apple up and down in his throat. When she looked back up to meet his gaze - now soft and searching - she was surprised to find that he had stepped forward. Reaching out, Jaime grasped at the fingers of Brienne's free hand with his that were partially encased in a plaster cast.

"And what if the worst happens?"

She did not understand what he was getting at. What could be worse than this? The Zombie Apocalypse?

"What is the worst?" she asked, confusedly.

Jaime blinked a few times and swallowed again before speaking. "What if... what if one of _us_ turns?"

_Oh,_ she thought, a knot tying itself in her gut. _What if Jaime turned?_

_There would be nothing more hateful than not being able to protect the man I love._

Trying to be strong for him, Brienne gazed at him firmly, wanting to impart to him the paramount need of his own survival. "Then we would do what needs to be done. Bash my head in the second I come back a monster, because I would hate to think that I had ever had a hand in hurting you."

If Brienne gave into her more romantic side at that moment, she could have sworn that Jaime went misty-eyed . Even if that was not the case, however, his voice was still soft when he replied. "No wench," he said gently, his breath warm on her face, "if you go down, I'm coming with you. Zombies. Together."

Brienne shook her head bemusedly. "Why would you say something like that?" she asked, trying to keep the horror out of her voice even as her brain bombarded her with mental images of an undead Jaime.

Perhaps absorbing her mood, Jaime bit his lip nervously. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" she asked, lost in confusion and the never-ending green of his eyes.

"That I..."

"Right, we've got Mum's things," announced Sansa as her and Catelyn came barrelling into the room. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Leaping away from Jaime as if he had burnt her, Brienne shook her head, trying to keep her blush at bay. "No, nothing," she insisted, gazing at anything other than the man she loved, now feet away from her and looking a little hurt. Wanting to prevent Sansa from asking anymore questions about what had just passed between her and Jaime, Brienne took control of the situation once more. "Petyr has just popped to the bathroom to pick up more supplies, but once he is ready we really must go."

"Where are we going next?" asked Catelyn. "Will we meet Euron the Doctor at _The Winterfell?"_

"No," replied Sansa, a little annoyed at her mother had forgotten the plan.

"Then where are we going?" inquired Catelyn.

Brienne could answer in one word.

"Cersei's."

_Oh damn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I love comments and kudos, so please consider leaving them!
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime, Brienne, Sansa, Catelyn, and Petyr drive round to Cersei's flat...


	8. The Dragonpit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne go to reason with Cersei...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks so much for reading this! I'm going back to work in the next few days, so will probably be posting slower, but I hope this chapter tides you over. In this one, I've mixed up dialogue from the Dragonpit scene in Season 7, and the scene where Shaun goes to reason with Liz and her flatmates in the film. I hope you enjoy!

"We're here," announced Brienne as the car pulled up outside _Dragonpit Court,_ where Cersei, Euron, and Melara's flat was located. Almost unconsciously, her eyes flitted to Jaime as she did so, trying to gage his reaction to being so close to his ex-girlfriend. To her surprise, his expression was impassive.

As Jaime undid his seatbelt, Sansa leant forward from the back seat. "You two go and get Cersei. I'll childmind Mum and Petyr."

Brienne passed the car keys to her. "Keep the car moving. Any problems..."

"Yeah, yeah," said Sansa. "Do the honks."

Grabbing hold of _Oathkeeper,_ Brienne turned to Jaime. "There's only a few zombies between here and the _Dragonpit_. Do you think we can take them?"

Jaime smirked, "of course wench. You and me. We can do anything."

All things considered, the run to Cersei's flat was not as terrifying as Brienne had been imagining. Sure, a zombie in a baseball cap had almost taken a bite out of her left arm, but Jaime had decapitated him before he had the chance, and then Brienne had returned the favour by smashing a blonde zombie with the hilt of her sword when it dared to come within five miles of her Kingslayer.

There was also a slightly terrifying few seconds when Melara took ages to answer the buzzer, so Brienne had to wave _Oathkeeper_ around in a vaguely threatening manner until she finally arrived.

"Hello? Who is this?" came Melara's sickly sweet voice over the intercom.

"It's me, Jaime," he replied quickly. "Can you open the door?"

"Ooh, lion cub, I didn't know you were visiting today," purred Melara, causing Brienne to momentarily make a vow to kill Cersei's totally inappropriate flatmate herself when they got upstairs.

"Neither did I, but there are loads of zombies so... please can you let me in now?"

"Like now!" shouted Brienne, as two zombies came staggering towards them, their eyes glazed and glassy.

Luckily, at that moment Melara came to her senses, enabling Jaime and Brienne to charge into the block of flats and then march up the stairs. Cersei's flat was on the first floor, and she was already waiting at the door - blonde, terrifying, and beautiful - when they arrived. The sight of her turned Brienne's blood to ice.

"We've been waiting here a long time," snarled Cersei, as if she had been in on the rescue plan all along and had been expecting them to come.

Jaime rolled his eyes. "My apologies Cers, but there's a massive load of zombies outside."

"I'm not talking about that," spat Cersei, "it's just I didn't realise the two of you were so flabby it would take you four days to get up the stairs. Come in."

Already feeling insulted after barely thirty seconds, Brienne had to bite down on her tongue to stop herself snapping at Cersei as they made their way into the apartment, finding Euron and Melara waiting for them in the lounge. Euron was wearing a simple T-shirt with an octopus on it and jeans, ideal for running, whereas Melara was wearing a crop-top and a teeny miniskirt. For some reason, she always managed to be attired in the bear minimum every time she was in Jaime's general vicinity. It made Brienne's blood boil.

"Oh lion cub, you are here!" she cooed, fluttering her stupid brown eyes at him. Brienne disliked Cersei plenty, but she had a special kind of hate reserved Melara. Perhaps it was because in another life they had despised one another, or perhaps it was that, like Brienne, she was a failed catcher of Jaime's attention. Either way, Melara's twittering displays always made Brienne feel sick. "Are you coming to rescue me? Like a knight in shining armour?"

Annoyed at Melara's ridiculousness, Brienne said gruffly, "I think we ought to begin with logic and sense."

"Why?" asked Euron, getting to his feet in a rather menacing way, "do you two happen to be here for any logical or sensible reason? Or do you just enjoy willy-waving with your swords?"

While Brienne rolled her eyes at the fact Euron was reducing their attempted rescue to a display of phallic prowess, Jaime tried to get control of the situation. "I think you ought to sit down."

Euron scoffed at him, "why?"

"We are already a group of people who do not like one another," said Jaime, clearly eyeing up Euron and recognising that he was yet another suitor for Cersei's hand. It made Brienne's heart sore, "but we _need_ each other. I've come to take you somewhere safe."

Then it was Cersei's turn to interrupt. "Safe? What do you mean safe? We were perfectly safe until you turned up. We were watching _Catfish."_

"Yeah, _Catfish,_ " cooed Melara, before giving Jaime a little wave.

Sensing Jaime was a little wrongfooted by Melara's flirtatious approach, Brienne took over. "We don't know that is true. The same thing is coming for all of us; a general you can't negotiate with, an army that doesn't leave corpses behind on the battlefield. There are three people who live in this flat; if you don't do something, you will be three more people who will become soldiers in the army of the dead."

Although Brienne had felt she was making quite a rousing speech, Cersei spluttered with laughter. "Do you think you are stuck in one of your stupid LARPing games that you and Jaime go and do on the weekends?"

"No," retorted Brienne, getting angry that Cersei was not taking her fear as sincere. "In case you haven't noticed, there are zombies outside, which I don't think you are taking very seriously."

Rolling her eyes, Cersei flopped down on the sofa next to Melara. "I don't think it is serious. I think you storming in here like the caped crusaders is another bad joke, the kind of stupid games that you play to get Jaime's attention."

For some reason, that comment really got Brienne's back up, so she snapped, "just because I'm his friend, and you are his girlfriend, it doesn't mean you have to misconstrue every single thing that passes between Jaime and me. We are best friends, and I..."

"She's my ex-girlfriend, Brienne," said Jaime, causing Brienne to snap her head around to look at him. "My _ex-_ girlfriend."

Brienne was about to tell him that it was only a matter of time before Cersei took him back, that she would be stupid and foolish not to, when Euron interrupted. "Which makes the question of what you are doing here even more pressing."

"We made a plan," declared Jaime, once Brienne feel like she could no longer keep his gaze.

"Oh, you made a plan, did you?" said Cersei sarcastically, "and what sort of plan was that? Because BBC News is telling us to stay inside and keep everything locked."

"I don't care what the telly says," replied Jaime, his voice ardent as he looked at his ex-girlfriend. Brienne wondered if he had ever thought about looking at her in that way. "We have to get out of here. If we stay, they will break down the door, they will come up here and they will tear us to pieces and that's really going to exacerbate matters for us all."

Cersei clicked her tongue in annoyance, "smooth."

Having had enough of Cersei's reluctance, Brienne got forceful. "Listen to me. Those things are crazed killers. We can kill them by smashing their brains in and, to be honest, I wouldn't like to go up against those things one on one. If we don't win this fight, becoming one of them is the fate of every single one of us. You have to trust us. We've been out there; we've seen what's happening. They're not just going to give up and go away. They'll keep coming."

"And why should we go with you?" asked Cersei, giving Brienne a piercing look. "What qualifies you two to be zombie fighters above everyone else?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," replied Brienne, "it's just there are already five of us down in the car, and once we're an army of eight, I'll feel even more confident. There's safety in numbers."

Cersei rolled her eyes. "But how will we make a good team? We don't even like each other!"

"This isn't about you or Brienne, Cers, or me and you," interrupted Jaime, his voice growing impassioned. "It's about survival. We need to be somewhere more secure, somewhere on the ground. Somewhere we have a chance to defend. Somewhere where we can all survive this thing. Together." At that statement, Brienne shot Jaime a warm glance; perhaps he had finally found the words to convince his ex-girlfriend and her cronies. He returned it eagerly.

There were a few more seconds of silence as Cersei, Euron, and Melara weighed up their options. What Jaime was saying was true; there was nothing safe about staying in a first floor flat, and the zombie army was only likely to keep coming. It was Melara who eventually broke the tension. "I'm with you, lion cub."

"What?" said Cersei and Euron as one.

"I'm with Jaime," repeated Melara, "and so are Cersei and Euron, give it time."

"I'm not going out there!" cried Euron. "I've been around the world. I've seen everything; things you couldn't imagine, and those things are the only things I've ever seen that terrify me."

Letting out a little snort at Euron's amateur dramatics, Brienne muttered, "and you accuse us of LARPing."

"You saw me in that production of Titus Andronicus, Euron," interjected Melara. "I only got fake torn to bits in that and I'm telling you, it was not nice. I don't want to be torn to pieces for real and I'm sure, if you really think about it, neither do you."

Perhaps feeling cornered, Euron turned to Cersei. "I'm not going if Cersei isn't going."

"Of course she's going," smiled Melara, as if the matter had already been decided.

"I'm not staying here on my own, then!" cried Euron.

"You are coming, Cers?" asked Jaime. "Aren't you?"

"Cersei?"

"Cersei?"

"Cersei?"

Suddenly, every pair of eyes in the room were on Cersei so, as per usual, she ruled the roost. Brienne could only watch in envy as she turned towards Jaime, running her green eyes all the way down his body, smiling at him teasingly. Finally deciding, she gazed at him searchingly. "Alright Flash, what did you have in mind?"

* * *

Five minutes later, once Cersei, Euron, and Melara were armed with a cricket bat, a tennis racket, and a hockey stick respectively, the new army of five went charging outside _Dragonpit Court_ towards the car, which Sansa had just pulled up outside. Unfortunately, a crowd of zombies were drawing close, so there wasn't any way to organise anything neatly, so everyone just had to bundle into the car, weapons and all.

"Can I drive? It is my car," asked Brienne as she climbed into the front passenger seat, Jaime squeezing in beside her.

"God no, we haven't got time for that!" squawked Sansa in the process, firing up the car and driving away, just in time to prevent the car getting surrounded by the undead. "Just sit back and let me take charge for once. Actually, why don't you sit on Jaime's lap? It might make things more comfortable for you."

Even though Sansa was bombing down a thirty zone going at seventy, she still had time to shoot Brienne a teasing look. The insinuation made Brienne go red, which only got worse once Jaime started whispering in her ear. "Come on wench, I won't mind, and it will give us more room on this seat than trying to squeeze in side by side."

Knowing he was right, and hating it all the same, Brienne closed her eyes as she let Jaime pull her onto his lap. Making a seatbelt, he tightened his hands around her waist and pulled her close, and she was so overwhelmed by the heat and warmth of him that she could barely speak.

Luckily, there was chaos in the back of the car to distract her.

"Urgh!" cried out Cersei when she slapped eyes on Petyr, who was being held by Catelyn, "is he dying?"

"No," replied Catelyn forcefully, "it's just that we are waiting for Euron, the doctor. Then everything will be alright."

"I'm Euron the doctor," said Euron, wincing in pain as Cersei and Melara started climbing all over him in an effort to remove themselves from Petyr's immediate vicinity. "But I don't know shit about how to deal with _that."_

Catelyn looked crestfallen at that comment. "But Sansa, Brienne, and Jaime said you would..."

"Okay!" called out Brienne suddenly, wanting to stop World War Three breaking out in the back before they even got halfway to _The Winterfell._ "It's a bit of a tight squeeze in here, but if everyone could please budge up that would be great. Cersei, Melara, one of you may have to sit on Catelyn's lap by the way... and oh yes, that is Catelyn... she is Sansa's Mum."

Suddenly realising that barely anybody knew each other, Brienne started introductions. "Catelyn, the obnoxious blonde one is Cersei, Jaime's girlfriend."

" _Ex-_ girlfriend," corrected Jaime, giving Brienne a playful pinch.

"The one in the inappropriate miniskirt is Melara, she is Cersei's flatmate."

"Hello!" cooed Melara, as she was forced to climb onto Catelyn's lap. "It's nice to meet you."

"And the guy is Euron; he is also Cersei's flatmate, and he is a doctor of Fake Medicine." At his introduction, Euron let out a grunt of greeting as he tried to avoid swallowing Cersei's hair.

"And Cersei, Euron, Melara, the pale and sweaty looking man to your left is Petyr, he's Catelyn's boyfriend. He's a bit under the weather at the moment, but hopefully he'll perk up soon."

"A bit under the weather!" squawked Cersei, "he looks..."

Cutting across her, Brienne tried to continue the introductions. "You all know Sansa of course, she will be our driver today, and the man I am sitting on is Jaime. He's mainly just here for eye-candy purposes."

That earned her another pinch.

"And I am Brienne. I am your tour guide for today. Does anyone have any questions?"

"Yes!" declared Cersei loudly, fixing Brienne with a venomous green-eyed stare. "Where are we going?"

At that inquiry, Brienne's smile grew. "To your favourite place in the world. We're going to _The Winterfell."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I luuurrrvvveee comments and kudos so keep them coming!
> 
> Next chapter... the army of eight head off to The Winterfell, but the journey is not as easy as first thought...


	9. Drive!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew drive to The Winterfell...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took so long, this chapter caused me a little bit of trouble. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

"Sansa," said Brienne meekly as her friend sped down the road so fast that they were almost going at G-Force, "it might be good if you slow down a bit."

"Yeah!" piped up Melara, "I get car sickness and I'm feeling quite ill."

"Not as ill as Petyr," scoffed Euron, "I wouldn't be surprised if he were..."

Brienne watched in the mirror as Catelyn snapped her head around to look at Euron, making him wither with her steely gaze. "I thought you were supposed to be a doctor?"

"I'm a lecturer, actually," he corrected, even as he looked a little sheepish at the fact he _was not_ a doctor.

At Euron's admittance, Petyr opened his eyes. "I thought you said you were a doctor?" he moaned; his voice slurred.

"I never said I was a doctor!" replied Euron, pointing at Catelyn. "I only said I was Euron the doctor because _you_ said I was a doctor."

"Yeah," added Cersei, trying to be helpful, "he never said he was a doctor, _you_ said he was a doctor."

"Why are you not a doctor?" squawked Catelyn, turning her attention back to Petyr. "Petyr's clearly sick, he needs help... he needs..."

"A doctor?" Jaime whispered in Brienne's ear, which just made Brienne laugh. In response, Sansa shot them both an annoyed look at sped up the car. Jaime just tightened his grasp on Brienne's waist in response, holding her close. Wanting to block out the sound of Euron, Cersei, and Cat, who were now bickering loudly in the back of the car, Brienne tried to focus on the sound of Jaime breathing. It was very soothing, after all.

"Mum," called Sansa, interrupting Cersei just as she was starting to accuse Catelyn of being a _ginger nutter_ , "can everyone just calm down? We'll sort this all out when we get to..."

BANG. While she was distracted with the chaos in the backseat, Sansa had gone ploughing into a zombie who happened to be ambling along in the middle of the road, who then went glancing off the Mini Cooper's bonnet.

"Sansa!" cried Brienne, terrified for the car. "Will you please be careful?!?"

"I thought you wanted to get there fast," said Sansa, even as she went a little red.

 _SMASH._ Another zombie went flying over the top of the car.

"Oof," whispered Sansa, as Brienne gave her a furious look. Jaime just giggled.

"I want to get there in one piece!" huffed Brienne, as she tightened her arms around Jaime's shoulders, meaning there wasn't any room for him to do anything else other than snuggle into her.

 _If only he would do this for real,_ Brienne thought dreamily.

So lost in the warmth and smell of Jaime, Brienne barely noticed when Cersei started back seat driving. "Why are we going this way?" she snapped. "Jaime has dragged me to _The Winterfell_ enough times for me to know this is not the right direction."

"Chill out blondie," growled Sansa, growing irritated. "It's a short cut."

"But the other road goes straight to _The Winterfell,"_ interjected Jaime, taking Cersei's side like he always did. "Wouldn't it make more sense if..."

"Cat," came Petyr's voice from the back, weak and feeble, causing Sansa's mum to start panicking again.

"Sansa, if Euron isn't a doctor we need to find Petyr an actual doctor, we..."

"I still don't actually understand why we are going to _The Winterfell_ , _"_ interrupted Euron, clearly huffy that Cat had implied he was not an actual doctor and wanting to change the subject. "It doesn't seem the perfect place to ride out the zombie apocalypse to me?"

As going to _The Winterfell_ had originally been his plan, Jaime was forced to defend it, but his mouth was so close to Brienne's neck that every word made her ticklish. "It's a pub. It's safe, it's secure, they know us there."

"What makes it so secure?" asked Cersei suspiciously.

"It's got heavy doors," said Jaime meekly, trying to justify the plan. "It's got dead bolts. We've all been to a lock in there."

"Yeah," concurred Cersei, "but a lock in is a bit different from a zombie apocalypse, Jaime."

"Yeah, but..." Jaime went to reply, but then he noticed Brienne giggling. "What are you laughing about, wench?"

"You're tickling my neck when you talk," she laughed, as his breath colliding with her skin set sparks alight once more.

His eyes growing bright with amusement, Jaime moved his lips closer so that they were almost, _almost_ pressed to her neck. "Sorry, wench. Is this any better?"

"No," she laughed, as Jaime proceeded to make it even worse by giggling himself. "Actually it feels quite..."

BANG. Another zombie went smashing into the car, forcing everyone to go lurching forward, and in the process pulling Jaime's lips off Brienne's neck.

"Sansa!" screamed Cersei, "what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Yeah, Sansa!" chorused Melara in agreement.

It was Petyr's calling of her friend's name that made Brienne feel uneasy, however. "Sansa..." His voice was rasping, a little more than a whisper. "Sansa..."

"What is it, Petyr?" she asked waspishly, turning around to look at him.

"Sansa, eyes on the road!" ordered Brienne, conscious that her friend was even more likely to plough the beloved Mini Cooper into a crowd of crazed zombies if she turned back and looked at Petyr. However, Catelyn's boyfriend then attempted to reach out to Sansa, his skin pale and his eyes wild.

"Sansa... you look so..."

"Petyr, what's the matter?" asked Catelyn, leaning across to get a closer look.

"Sansa..."

"Petyr!" squawked Catelyn again. "What's the matter? You don't look well, you don't..."

"Let him speak!" cried Cersei suddenly. "He's clearly trying to say something, just let him spit it out."

For almost the first time since Cersei, Euron, and Melara had entered the car, everyone was silent, waiting for Petyr to break the tension. Even Jaime, whose lips were once more tantalisingly close to kissing Brienne's neck, was quiet, rightly not taking the opportunity to make an inappropriate joke. Sansa swallowed, trying desperately to look at the road while her eyes kept traitorously turning back to Petyr. Eventually, he put an end to the tension by rasping out her name again. "Sansa... you look so like your mother." And then, as if for dramatic effect, Petyr closed his eyes and slumped back in his chair, his face very, very pale and his whole body perfectly still.

The silence that followed was different to what had come before. This time, it was tinged with fear.

"Petyr?" asked Catelyn slowly, her voice tentative. "Petyr? Are you okay?"

When no answer came, Euron tried to provide one. "I may not be a doctor, but I think I can tell when someone is..."

"Don't say it!" snapped Catelyn, her voice growing more tense and fearful with every word. "He can't be... _dead._ He was fine this morning, we were talking about going on a cruise, we were..."

"Check his pulse, just to be sure," suggested Cersei swiftly and, as Catelyn was too flabbergasted to move, Melara leaned across and did it for her. Clearly nervous, Melara flicked her eyes between Petyr and Catelyn as she searched for the steady beat that they were all hoping for.

After a few moments, she had her answer. "I don't feel anything. I think Euron is right, I think Petyr is..."

BANG. Another zombie went flying over the front of the car.

"Sansa!" cried Brienne, now more worried that they possibly had a dead body in the car than the fact Sansa was destroying her beloved Mini Cooper. "You've got to pull over."

"Why? We've got to stick to the plan. We've got to get to _The Winterfell,"_ said Sansa firmly, speeding the car up, purposefully not looking at Petyr.

"Um, I think we've got a bit of an emergency in the back of the car here," said Melara tentatively, as Catelyn began shaking Petyr, as if trying to wake him from a particularly heavy sleep.

"I don't care!" cried Sansa, as they went slamming into another zombie. "If we want to survive, we are going to have to get to _The Winterfell."_

"Sansa, will you just pull over? Just for a moment!" ordered Brienne firmly, as it slowly dawned on her that they really, _really_ had a major issue in the back of the car when Catelyn started making small whimpering sounds.

Rolling her eyes, Sansa did a sharp right turn to avoid a zombie, and went careering down a side street, which caused everyone in the car to lurch violently, Melara falling onto Euron, and Cersei slamming into the window. Luckily, Jaime had a tight enough grip on Brienne that the two of them managed to stay fairly stationary by just holding onto one another. Once the car had ground to a halt, Catelyn started rambling, desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

"I told you he needed a doctor," she gasped, "and now he's _dead._ One of those things bit him, and now he's dead and it's too late and there is nothing that we can do..."

Most of the time, Catelyn Stark was an eminently sensible woman; never disposed to histrionics, she always took a rational, level-headed approach. However, apparently, zombies breaking into her house, attacking her boyfriend, and then leaving him pretty much for dead was a step too far. Realising she was about to lose her mum to tears, Sansa turned around and tried to be consoling. "It might be okay. Melara might have missed his pulse. Petyr might not be dead, perhaps he's just..."

But then Petyr Baelish opened his eyes, and they were not the usual unreadable grey-green. This time, his eyes were ice-blue and unseeing, clearly not belonging to Cat's boyfriend anymore, but to the army of the dead.

"Urrrgggghhhh," he moaned, leaning forward once more towards Sansa, which quickly unleashed pandemonium in the car.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD HE'S A ZOMBIE!" screamed Cersei, as Melara lifted up the hockey stick and tried to valiantly push Petyr back. "EURON, OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

If anyone in the front of the car had questions about what was going on, they did not vocalise them as they were too busy trying to escape. Grabbing hold of _Oathkeeper,_ Brienne kicked the car door open and went leaping out, pulling Jaime out hurriedly behind her. Once he had _Widow's Wail_ in his hand, he slammed the door behind them, determined to keep the zombie at bay. Sansa had clearly had the same idea on the other side of the car, as she emerged with her weapon of choice - the rolling pin - safely in her hand.

Relieved to be free, Brienne's arms slinked around Jaime's waist once more, and he leant into her, sharing in her emotion. Sansa, however, was more prepared to think on her feet, as she narrowed her eyes at them confusedly. "Why are the others not getting out of the car?"

Pulling away from Jaime, Brienne thought about the question for a moment, before the answer came to her. "Oh god, the child lock is on! Quick! We've got to let them out!"

It was Sansa who reacted first, dashing to Euron's side of the car so the four still-living passengers on the backseat could get free. When they burst out the newly opened car, Euron fell over with relief, causing Cersei and Melara to almost trip over him when they finally got out. Catelyn looked far too distressed to make any sensible decisions, so Sansa had to slam the door shut behind her.

"What's happened to Petyr?" babbled Catelyn, "should we get the doctor? An actual doctor?"

"Why the hell was the child lock on?" screamed Cersei, her face red and furious.

"Are we still going to _The Winterfell?"_ asked Melara, eyes wide.

Euron was sighing dramatically. "God, I think I'm having a panic attack."

Aware that the army of seven was about to reduce into chaos, Brienne stepped forward, holding _Oathkeeper_ to give herself a little authority. "Yes, we are still going to _The Winterfell,_ Melara. We have to get to safety."

"But how the hell do we get Petyr out of the car?" asked Cersei angrily, pointing to the nearest window of the newly sealed Mini Cooper which Zombie Petyr was now banging at furiously, trying to rip it down in his attempt to sink his teeth into the tasting looking living flesh outside the window.

"We haven't got time," declared Jaime, standing firmly beside his best friend. Brienne felt strangely warm, knowing she had his physical support. "Brienne is right. We have to keep moving. I know it would be safer if we had the car, but... sometimes you just have to improvise, and we've _got_ to get to _The Winterfell."_

Clearly not liking that Jaime and Brienne were teaming up and taking control, Cersei stepped forward, folding her arms in annoyance. "And what about me and Euron, huh? We've left our cricket bat and tennis racket in the car. What about getting them?"

Jaime let out a bitter chuckle. "You are more than welcome to try and get back in the car and get them, Cers, but I think Petyr would have something to say about that."

Zombie Petyr chose that particular moment to headbutt the window, slobbering down the glass, as if to prove Jaime's point. Knowing she was defeated, Cersei just looked at little sourly at him, saying, "well, I'll have to trust you to defend me, then."

As the most awkward member of the team had now been won over, Brienne gave everybody what she thought was an encouraging smile, hoping to get them onside too. "Okay everyone, we're not far from _The Winterfell._ If we stay together and move through the backstreets, we should be able to get there without much hassle from our undead friends."

Even as that suggestion garnered an agreeing nod from Melara and Sansa, Catelyn stepped forward and seized the latter's arm, her eyes desperate. "Sweetheart, we can't leave Petyr. Maybe we should get a doctor, maybe we should..."

It was at that point, Sansa's irritation erupted out of her; she had not liked Petyr at the best of times, and now Catelyn was putting him before her own survival. "There's nothing any doctor can do for him, Mum. He's gone, okay? He's fucking gone."

"But he _can't_ be," said Catelyn, her voice little more than a whine. "He was fine a couple of hours ago, he was..."

"MUM!" yelled Sansa, making a group of nearby birds go ricocheting into the sky. "Just get some goddamn perspective. Petyr's gone! Okay? He's..."

"Don't say it."

"Even if I don't say it, it is still true!"

"Sansa, I..."

Having managed to bend Cersei, Euron, and Melara into working for the team's self-preservation, Brienne was a little worried that Sansa and Catelyn would rip it all apart. She tried to think of something to say that would ameliorate them both, that would put them back on the path of working as a team and surviving together. Unfortunately, Brienne had never been good with words.

It was supremely lucky, therefore, that Jaime was.

Handing _Widow's Wail_ to Brienne, Jaime stepped forward and put a comforting hand on Cat's shoulder. "Look, I know you don't know me or have any reason to trust me, Catelyn, but please listen. All Sansa is trying to say is that that man... that _thing_ in Brienne's car right now is not your boyfriend, it's not Petyr. Hell, he's not even human. I know he still looks like Petyr, and that gives you hope that you might be able to save him, but you can't. There is nothing of the man you cared for in that car. _Nothing._ You've got to think of the bigger picture right now; there are seven people still alive here, including your daughter, and I would like to keep it that way. Therefore, we have to leave Petyr for the good of all of us and focus on what is possible to save."

When Catelyn looked up at Jaime, her eyes were brimming with tears. "But I _owe_ Petyr. He's always loved me and I... I've never felt the same way. I still want Ned; I still love Ned and I... I couldn't save him. I don't know if I could live with the guilt of losing Petyr too."

Softening at Catelyn restatement of her love for her father, Sansa came and stood by Jaime, smiling kindly at her mother. "I get that Mum, I really do, but if you let him out of that car, we are all dead. You. Me. Brienne. All of us. Jaime is right; we've got to move on from our pasts and focus on the people who are living. We'll only survive if we work as a team, together. I know you cared about Petyr, but you _can't_ let your guilt cost us our lives."

Even as Jaime and Sansa's protestations washed over her, Catelyn turned her head to look back at the car, towards the Petyr who was still trying to free himself from his tiny prison. Although Brienne was scared that Sansa's Mum would continue to fight, she clearly saw the moment Catelyn acquiesced, as her shoulders slumped, and her eyes went blank. "Alright," she said quietly. "Let's go to _The Winterfell."_

"Great," said Jaime, before turning and taking _Widow's Wail_ back from Brienne. She could not help but feel immensely proud of him. "Let's go, everyone. Euron, Cersei, keep near someone with a weapon at all times." Although she went to follow her shining star instantly, the others stayed still, leaving Brienne to wonder what their problem was until it was eventually voiced by Euron.

"So... are we seriously going to walk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!


	10. And the Oscar Goes To...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The army of seven make their final push towards the pub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this is so late. You would not believe how hard this chapter was to write. There's a little bit of stolen dialogue in this one, but I hope you enjoy!

Armed with little more than two cosplay swords, a rolling pin, and a hockey stick, the little army of seven made its way through the backstreets of the neighbourhood, determined to get to _The Winterfell_ without being detected by the undead. As luck would have it, they found a deserted alleyway that Sansa and Brienne had played in as children, which Brienne swore could get them to the pub while remaining relatively unnoticed.

"Is everybody alright back there?" called Brienne, looking over her shoulder at her rag-tag army that she might soon depend on for her very life. It was a disheartening thought. Catelyn looked a little lost and distant, which was to be expected after what happened to Petyr, but her sadness shrouded the group in a slightly melancholy mood. Sansa seemed to sense her distress as she walked beside her Mum, occasionally shooting her worried glances. Euron, Melara, and Cersei huddled together as a group, whispering undoubtedly bitchy things to one another, and passing suspicious looks between them as they walked.

The only bright spot was Jaime, who was carrying on as if this was the quest he had been waiting for the whole of his life.

"Everything's fine, we're all having a great time," he smiled, coming to walk beside Brienne. As he did so, his shoulder bumped against hers, and she could not resist bumping back. Catching his eye, Brienne found herself grinning at him, which he returned earnestly.

Unfortunately, the moment was shattered by Cersei. "Do you actually have any idea where we are going, Brienne?"

"Of course she does!" retorted Jaime, giving Cersei a firm look. "Brienne knows these backstreets like the back of her hand."

Cersei continued to be a little disbelieving, even as Jaime stared her down, but she eventually muttered, "well, if you are sure..."

When she had once more gone back to bitching with Euron and Melara, Jaime turned back to Brienne, dropping his voice low so he could speak to her. "Do you though?"

"What?"

"Know where we are going."

Brienne nodded, wanting to appear confident. "Oh yeah. Totally."

"Good," smiled Jaime, his hand skirting down the back of her arm, "because I trust you, wench, more than anybody to lead us all out of this mess."

As Jaime gazed at her reverently - all green eyes and dimples - Brienne could not help but blush. "Why do you say that?"

To Brienne's surprise, Jaime looked at her confusedly. "Because I _do_ trust you. You are the Maid of Tarth, the best knight in the realm. Who else would I trust to protect me and deliver me to the safety of _The Winterfell?"_

Even though Brienne knew that he was just trying to make her feel good, there was something about Jaime's apparent sincerity that made Brienne profoundly uneasy. Their whole relationship was based on jokes; laughter, affectionate mockery, and a bit of sword fighting. And his LARPing character, the Kingslayer _hated_ hers,the Maid of Tarth. So why was Jaime speaking like this now? It had to be a joke. Surely.

"There's no need to make fun of me now," she said, irritated, stepping away from him. "The Kingslayer hates the Maid of Tarth..."

"The Kingslayer _doesn't_ hate the Maid of Tarth," replied Jaime, his fingers brushing hers as they walked. "In fact, his feelings are quite the opposite of that."

Feeling very hot, Brienne tried to pick up her pace to get away from him, but Jaime merely jogged to keep up with her. "The Kingslayer is the Maid of Tarth's prisoner," Brienne said firmly, looking straight ahead of herself in an effort not to be caught up in his eyes once more. "He wants to escape from her. He would kill her if it meant he could return to Cersei."

"No, he wouldn't," said Jaime firmly, reaching out to try to hold her hand. Brienne flinched away, folding her arms. "He would choose the Maid of Tarth over Cersei any day of the week."

"Don't be silly. There is no way that Sam would ever write a story in which the handsome Kingslayer would ever pick the ugly Maid of Tarth over Cersei. It's just not believable."

Jaime furrowed his brow; his confusion being replaced by disbelief. "Who said the Maid of Tarth was ugly?"

Now his mockery really was getting too ridiculous for Brienne to countenance, so she rolled her eyes. "Come on, Jaime. The Maid of Tarth is played by _me_. I own a mirror. I know what I am."

At that statement, Jaime fell silent. She wondered whether he had finally, _finally_ run out of words, or if her blatant pronouncement of the truth was just making him guilty about the limits of reality. Brienne wanted to turn and laugh at her small triumph, but then Jaime tried to take her hand once more, his voice small and soft as he spoke. "That's not true, that's..."

Just then, there was a bloodcurdling scream, so loud and terrified that it reduced the whole group to silence. As Brienne could sense the mounting dread coming over the rest of the army, she knew she had to be brave, and being brave meant extracting herself from Jaime, because she could never be brave when it came to him.

"We can't talk about this now," she said quietly, hoping her voice was low enough that the others could not hear her. "This is really not the right time. We have to think about survival."

"And after we survive?" he asked, something aching in his tone.

Brienne did not want to answer that question, so turned around to face the others, pulling completely away from Jaime as she did so. She refused to look at him, because she did not his green eyes filled with disgust at the truth.

 _The Maid of Tarth is ugly, Jaime, and you are beautiful,_ she thought sadly. _So you will never, ever want me._

"Right everyone," said Brienne, her voice bright and hopeful in contrast to the heaviness she felt inside. "At the end of this path here, there is a little turnoff which leads out to the main road and _The Winterfell._ We just need to check the coast is clear on the zombie front and then we'll head across."

"I'll go and be lookout if you want," volunteered Cersei, stealing Melara's hockey stick and raising it as if it was an equal to the cosplay swords. "I'll be two seconds."

Feeling confident, Cersei ran down the road, flying as light as a bird. Brienne watched, her stomach roiling, as Cersei peered around the corner. If she did not feel so nervous, perhaps Brienne would have been able to appreciate the only person whose eyes were not on Cersei was Jaime.

After a few moments of peering around the corner, Cersei turned back and headed back to the group, picking up her pace with every step. When she reached them, Brienne asked for her assessment of the situation. "Is it clear?"

"No."

"How many?"

"Lots."

"Right," said Brienne, unable to suppress the disappointed sigh that suddenly overwhelmed her. "I suppose _lots_ means too many for us to fight off with two swords, a hockey stick, and a rolling pin?"

Cersei nodded. "Yep. When I say lots, I mean _lots."_

Struggling with what to do next, Brienne turned to the others.

"Guys, I'm struggling with what to do next," she said, repeating her thought verbatim. "Has anyone got any ideas?"

After a few moments of everyone looking at one another sheepishly, Euron raised his hand.

"Yes, Euron?" asked Brienne, hoping it would be something stellar.

"Mass suicide."

"No," said Brienne, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Anyone else?"

It was Cersei's turn to raise her hand.

"What if we just run for it?" she suggested. "Every man for himself."

"It's good to know you are such a team player," said Jaime tartly.

"This is not about me being a team player," replied Cersei angrily, "this is about me _surviving._ I think I would rather those things take a chunk out of you than me."

At Cersei's declaration, Jaime let out a bitter laugh. "It's great to know you care so much about me, Cers."

"You're the one who doesn't care about me," interjected Cersei, "you are the one who said you would choose _her_ over..."

"We don't have to talk about this now," snapped Jaime, going red, "we've got to come up with a real plan that we can use to get to _The Winterfell."_

"The mass suicide doesn't sound so bad to me," muttered Sansa.

At that moment, the group descended into bickering. Jaime and Cersei were arguing about whether either of them had ever cared for the other one. Catelyn had turned to Sansa and began fretting about the zombies hearing them. Euron kept trying to persuade Brienne that his suicide pact idea was not totally ludicrous but built on a tradition of mass suicides in human history conducted in moments of total devastation. He was just explaining to Brienne how it would be good to go out like the rebels at Masada when Melara piped up.

"I've got an idea," she said, her brown eyes wide and full of hope.

The whole group turned to look at her, united in their scepticism.

"What's that then?" asked Cersei, her tone unimpressed.

"Have any of you ever seen _The Mummy_?" asked Melara.

Brienne looked at her confusedly. "What, with Brendan Fraser?"

"Yeah."

"Um... yes I have. Why?"

Melara's smile grew bigger. "Well, do you remember the scene in which Rachel Weisz' brother gets attacked by zombies?"

Brienne thought about it for a moment. "Yeah... I think so."

"Do you remember how he survived?"

Struggling to think back to an late 1990s action-comedy she had not watched in ten years, Brienne was a little stumped. "No, I don't."

"He pretends to _be_ a zombie," said Melara happily, her triumphant grin getting brighter by the second. "Well, why don't we do that? Why don't we pretend to be zombies until we get inside _The Winterfell?"_

Brienne shot a nervous look at Jaime, but he seemed to be at least considering the option. "That's not a bad plan," he said slowly, "but how are we going to pull it off?"

Melara rolled her eyes. "I am a trained actress. I can teach you all how to embody a zombie perfectly."

Seemingly a little amused, given the fact that Melara only played a very ditzy nurse on a daytime soap, Jaime smiled at her, intrigued. "Go on then. How do we embody a zombie perfectly?"

In answer to Jaime's question, Melara began shaking her arms and rolling her tongue, as if warming up for an acting role. "So, the most important thing is that we limber up. You can't embody someone else while you are still trapped within yourself."

At that instruction, the whole group shot nervous looks at each other, but Melara trammelled over all complaints by just continuing with her plan. "So, first of all. Stretch your bodies. Go on. We can't be zombies while still standing like ourselves." As they had no better plans, the whole group finally began to do what Melara was suggesting and limber up. Jaime began with a couple of tentative hamstring stretches, Catelyn did a couple of shallow lunges, while Cersei managed to lift her leg above her head. Brienne just stood around awkwardly, feeling this sort of thing was far too difficult for her.

"Now," announced Melara, moving onto the next stage of the plan, "we have to think about how the zombies conduct themselves. It's all very limp, almost like sleepwalking. Their faces are vacant, with a hint of sadness, like a drunk at a pub well past closing time. And the voice, it's a glottal rumble with a neutral _ahhh_ sound." When the whole group just gazed at Melara as if she had gone mad, she started to get a bit snippy with them. "Okay, let's start with Sansa, shall we? Give me your best zombie impression."

Although Sansa looked sceptical for her few moments, she eventually lifted her arms in front of her, pulled a vacant expression, and said, "arrrrgggghhhhh."

"Very good," smiled Melara. "Excellent voice work. Now, what about you, Catelyn?" Clearly distracted by the still pressing weight of losing Petyr in such a terrible and awful fashion, Catelyn looked glazed over and lost. To Brienne's surprise, Melara thought it Oscar worthy. "Ooooh, brilliant, Catelyn! I really love the way you captured how distant they are and longing for a vanished humanity they can never reclaim."

At the sound of her name, Catelyn came back into the room. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was miles away."

Sensing she was losing, Melara turned to Brienne. "Now to our intrepid leader, Brienne. What can you rustle up for us?"

Feeling everyone's eyes on her, Brienne could barely contain her blush as she raised the arm that was not holding _Oathkeeper_ and went for, "urgh."

That her performance was bad was evident in Melara's slightly tight expression. "Come on Brienne, surely you can do better than that?"

"Yes, wench," smiled Jaime, bumping her shoulder with his encouragingly, " _surely_ you can do better than that. You are a LARPer."

"I feel silly," mumbled Brienne, not able to look at Jaime.

"You just have to make your whole body loose," advised Melara, as Jaime bumped Brienne's shoulder once more.

"I can give you a little massage if you want. That might make you looser."

At Jaime's comment, Brienne's face felt hot as she was suddenly bombarded with images of Jaime's hands all over her naked body - _why am I naked? You perv!_ \- so she tried to dispel her embarrassment by trying to be a convincing zombie once more.

"Uuuuurrrrrggggghhhh."

"Much better," smiled Melara, before turning to Jaime. "Now, lion cub. I have lots of faith in you, so remember you are mournful, sorrowful, you're dead and you hate it."

Jaime shrugged. "I'll do it on the night."

"Tonight _is_ the night," said Brienne admonishingly, "so maybe it will help if you practice."

"No it won't," insisted Jaime. "Either those zombies are too stupid and will just let us walk past, or they will sense we are all alive and just eat our brains. So I say we just go for it now. The sun is shining, we're here together. Let's just make one more roll of the dice and hope it works."

For all Jaime's many faults, Brienne felt he always had a way of being thoroughly convincing on the righteousness of any crazy plan.

Maybe it was the dimples.

* * *

"UUUURRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH."

The army of seven were united in purpose as they walked through the hordes of zombies outside _The Winterfell,_ doing their best impressions of zombies. Well, Brienne did not thing all of them could be classified as the _best_ impressions; only herself, Melara, and Sansa were putting in any real effort. Euron kept jumping any time a zombie came within half a mile of him, Catelyn's depression was masking any need for real acting, Cersei kept rolling her eyes at the way Melara was throwing herself into her character, and Jaime just looked too happy to be in any way convincing.

Yet, even so, somehow, they managed to get to the door of _The Winterfell_ without being attacked.

"Shit," mumbled Jaime, rattling the door. "It's locked."

Brienne's eyes went very wide. "What do you mean it's locked?"

"I mean the door is locked, wench," replied Jaime, as the other five gathered round them. "It feels like someone has put a bar on the other side... like someone else might already be in there."

"Well, you did say _The Winterfell_ might be a good place to defend," interjected Cersei, "maybe other people have had the same idea."

"Maybe we should try knocking?" suggested Brienne.

"Dooooo noooot beeeee ridddddiiiicccccuuullllooooouuuussss," moaned Melara, keeping up the act. "Weeee'vvveeeee gooooott tooooo staaaaayyy iiiiin chaaaaraaaacteeeer oooorrr theeeyyy'lll eeeaaattt ooouuuurrrr braaaaiiinnnss."

"But we have to get inside," spat Euron urgently, "or we're all dead."

"Break the window," suggested Cersei.

"Don't be stupid," replied Jaime, "we'll be totally exposed, and they'll be able to climb in right after us."

"We are already totally exposed in case you haven't noticed!" hissed Cersei. "Break the window."

"I agree, break the window," added Euron, giving Cersei a supportive look.

"Unless there is another way in," interjected Sansa. "Jaime, Brienne? Do either of you know another way in?"

Brienne thought about it for a moment, but then she was interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone, which featured _One Direction_ loudly proclaiming _You Don't Know You're Beautiful_. Turning to her left, she discovered Jaime pulling his mobile out of his pocket and answering in a hushed voice. "Hey Bronn, what's up?"

"Jaime!" cried Brienne in a dramatic whisper. "What are you doing?"

"Two secs," replied Jaime, before turning back to his phone. "Yeah, sorry, I can't really talk now... yep... yep... oh cool, you killed one with a crossbow? Well we are kinda surrounded by a load of zombies at the moment, so I'll have to call you back... bye... bye..."

Hanging up, Jaime returned to the question at hand. "Sorry Sansa, what were you saying about another entrance?"

However, Sansa did not seem prepared to answer that question, as she had slowly turned around to face the zombie horde, who had finally noticed they had fresh meat in their midst. "Ummm," she began, her voice little more than a squeak. "A second entrance might be really useful right now." As the zombies fixed their ice blue eyes on the small army of seven, Brienne pressed herself back against the locked pub door, feeling Jaime warm beside her.

 _If this is it,_ she thought, _maybe I should at least hold his hand. Maybe I can have one small romantic moment with him._

As Brienne tried to muster the courage to grab Jaime's hand, Cersei seemed to have other ideas. Stepping forward, Cersei picked up the sign saying "3 SHOTS FOR A FIVER" with the strength of a bodybuilder, and flung it through the pub's nearest window, sending a burst of noise and glass ricocheting into the street.

" _This_ is our second entrance!" the blonde menace shouted, pointing at the hole she had made in the pub. Brienne could barely believe she had done something so reckless, not when surrounded by hundreds of zombies determined to eat her flesh.

"They'll follow us!" cried Brienne, but it was too late. Cersei was already heading for the window, Euron in tow. Melara followed a few moments later, dropping the zombie act entirely, leaving Sansa, Catelyn, Brienne, and Jaime hovering by the door, the zombie army getting closer and closer.

"We don't have any other ideas," said Sansa eventually, grabbing Catelyn's hand and pulling her in the direction of the broken window. Even as the situation got more dire by the second, Brienne could only envision being trapped in the pub if the zombies followed them. She went to voice this terror but was beaten to it by Jaime.

"I have another plan," he said quickly, holding his phone out and turning _One Direction_ back on, capturing the zombies' attention once again.

"What are you doing?" squawked Brienne, terrified that Jaime seemed to be drawing the monsters to them even quicker.

"Causing a distraction," Jaime responded, before leaning forward and pecking her on the cheek. She burnt so brightly at the unexpectedness and closeness of it that Brienne barely heard what Jaime said next. "Wait until I've gone, then get inside. Barricade the window once you are in."

"Jaime, I..."

However, he did not give her time to respond. Using the element of surprise (and _Widow's Wail_ ) Jaime bravely bowled past several of the zombies, still holding his phone above his head. "Oiiii!!! Follow me! You want me, not her! I'm much tastier! Follow me! Follow me!"

Brienne tried to keep her eyes on him as he darted through the horde of zombies, every inch the true hero, but as Jaime was doing such a good job as a distraction that the horde seemed to follow him, leaving Brienne alone with Catelyn and Sansa. Not wasting her opportunity, Sansa grabbed Brienne's wrist and tried to pull her towards the window.

"But what about Jaime!" stammered Brienne, still trying to catch a glimpse of him through the terrifying crowd of the undead.

"For once in your life, think of yourself before Jaime," ordered Sansa firmly. "He would want you to live, so get inside the damn pub."

Knowing Sansa was speaking nothing but the truth, Brienne let her friend pull her towards the broken window, suddenly feeling like little more than a member of the stunned, shocked dead.

 _Jaime offered himself as bait,_ she thought, the truth overwhelming her as she tried to avoid the broken glass.

_Jaime kissed me._

_And now he's gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving comments and kudos <3
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne worries about Jaime...


	11. The Army of the Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne, Sansa, Catelyn, Cersei, Euron, and Melara finally arrive at the pub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the long wait (YET AGAIN), but I've been wrestling with this chapter. I hope you enjoy!

If Brienne had been less shell-shocked by what Jaime had just done for them all, she may have acted with surprise once she climbed through the pub window and discovered what awaited her inside. As it turned out, their little group had not been the only ones to think of holing up in _The Winterfell_ until it all blew over, as the pub was fairly full of slightly terrified looking people who were just about holding it together.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" thundered Daenerys Targaryen once the army of six had all climbed through the window, her violet eyes fiery in the gloom of the pub. "We barricaded ourselves in here for a reason, you know?"

"Shut up blondie," growled Cersei, "you're not the only one who values your life."

Daenerys' nostrils flared in irritation. "You threw a board saying _three shots for a fiver_ through the window, and it almost hit Sam."

"Yeah, it almost hit Sam," chimed in Jon, Sansa's cousin, slinging one arm around his girlfriend as he did so.

"It didn't actually hit me..." said Sam gently, but Daenerys did not seem to have time for his objections.

"It doesn't matter. We now have a big hole in our defences that we are somehow going to have to plug, because of _your_ stupidity," sniped Daenerys, pointing a warning finger at everyone who had just entered the pub.

Sansa rolled her eyes. She had never had much patience for Jon's girlfriend at the best of times so, at the end of the world, she was positively intolerant. "Technically, it was Cersei, so if you want to blame someone, blame her."

"We really shouldn't be getting into the blame game now..." interjected Gilly from her position next to Sam, but no one seemed to be listening, especially not Cersei, Sansa, and Daenerys.

"Oh, get over yourself," said Cersei dismissively to Sansa, shooting her a withering look. "It's easy enough to block up with a couple of chairs."

"Let's do it now!" ordered Daenerys, turning to the rest of the group. "Jorah, go down to the cellar and bring up a couple of outdoor chairs. Gendry, start collecting the ones in here..."

"Hey!" squawked Arya suddenly, her expression dark. "Who made you Queen of the Pub? You can't just order Gendry around!"

As Daenerys went to bite back, Jon put a hand on her shoulder. "Arya, Daenerys was the only one sensible enough to bring guns..."

At the mention of actual weapons, Sansa piped up. "You've got guns?"

For the first time since the late additions' entry into the pub, Daenerys smiled. "Of course I do," she said proudly, stepping back to reveal three hunting rifles lined up carefully on the table, "Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. If one of those zombies comes anywhere near me, I'll blow their brains out with my babies."

"Unless those fuckers get to you first," growled the burnt man that Brienne recognised from days spent chilling at _The Winterfell,_ "which gets more and more likely if we don't bar the window."

"The Hound's right," interjected Arya. "There don't seem to be too many of them out there now, and I would like to keep it that way. Hyle, Pod, has the pub got anything strong we could use to block the window with?"

The two barmen looked at each other, seemingly about to break into a discussion about potential ways to block up the sign-shaped hole in the window when Brienne interrupted. "No, you can't!"

Daenerys raised an eyebrow at her. "Why not?"

"Because Jaime is still out there and he is going to be back any minute," insisted Brienne, turning her head to look at every single person in the room, assuring them with her firm gaze that everything was going to be alright, and that Jaime _was_ coming back. All they had to do was wait.

 _He has to come back,_ she told herself. _He has to._

"I doubt that," replied Euron bluntly, picking up a bar stool as he walked past. "He basically just dived straight into a big crowd of zombies. I imagine if he hasn't bee ripped limb from limb by now, he soon will be."

At Euron's words, Brienne's mind became filled with distorted images of Jaime's body being destroyed; his beautiful eyes wide and scared, his limbs torn, his whole person wracked in pain. It made her sick and Brienne could not help but feel that, if he was truly gone, it would be all her fault. Pushing that horrible thought out of her mind, Brienne turned to stare at Euron furiously, feeling thoroughly riled. "You don't know him like I do. He'll be back."

Sensing the brewing tension, Sansa stepped forward, squeezing Brienne's shoulder gently. "Let's all stay calm. Why don't we try and put the power on? It is dark in here. Maybe we can all then sit down and think of a plan..."

"The power's out," grunted the Hound, even as Cersei marched over to a light switch and began flicking it on and off. "We checked."

As Cersei was looking a little frustrated, Brienne turned to Jon and Daenerys, the people she suspected were running this show. "That's probably a good thing, actually," she said, trying to think of the practical considerations of bunkering down in _The Winterfell_ over the fact that Jaime was lost, gone, and she was completely terrified for him. "We don't want to advertise our whereabouts more than we already have."

"No, of course not," interjected Cersei, rolling her eyes. "We'd all rather stay in a dark, freezing cold pub while there are zombies outside with a massive hole in the window."

"You did that, you twat!" growled Arya, which caused Cersei to shoot her a dismissive look.

"We should really thinking about blocking that up," suggested Hyle.

"Yeah, I agree," added Pod.

"And me," said the Hound.

After that chorus of agreement, most of the army of the living began moving around the pub, gathering chairs and anything heavy to block the hole in the window before Brienne could do anything to stop them. It made Brienne see red. "Guys! Stop! Jaime will be back any minute! We've got to give him a way to get back in."

"Do you think he will be gone long?" asked Catelyn, her eyes wide, "because after what happened with Petyr, I don't think it is a good idea to leave ourselves so exposed..."

"He'll be back soon!" declared Brienne, grabbing Sam's shoulder as he tried to shuffle past her to pick up a chair. "Stop! Once Jaime is back, _then_ we can try and block up the window, but not before."

As everybody stopped trying to collect chairs, Cersei made a scoffing sound. "How can you even know he's coming back? Euron is right. He ran out into a big crowd of zombies."

"I don't think he would leave us," chimed in Sansa, but Cersei was not listening.

"This is _Jaime_ we are talking about, not some action hero. He's a guy who spends his weekends running around in muddy fields pretending to be a knight. Are we honestly all going to put our own lives at risk for some distant hope in a man like Jaime, who can't even remember when he is meant to be coming on a dinner date with me - _me_ \- is still alive?A man whose idea of a romantic nightspot and an impenetrable fortress are the same thing; a pub. Look around us! We are in a _pub._ If we don't block up that window now, we are all done for."

Although the bile that had just spewed from Cersei's mouth was self-centred, narcissistic and vile, especially considering Jaime had just sacrificed himself to save her sorry arse, there was a momentary pause as everyone considered what she had just proposed. Eventually, Daenerys broke the silence. "I hate to say it, but I agree with Cersei."

"Thank you," smiled Cersei the evil blonde menace, like a cat who got the cream.

In reality, she had simply signed Jaime's death warrant.

Once Daenerys agreed with Cersei's plan, it instantly became clear who was in charge, as the army of the living once again went ahead with their attempt to collect chairs. Panic rising in her stomach, Brienne held her arms up and raised her voice, desperate for them to at least give Jaime a chance. "Look, we don't have to do this. Let's just keep quiet and wait for Jaime. We can barricade the window once he gets back."

"Okay, then what?" snapped Cersei, walking towards Brienne with a bitter look on her face. "We hunker on down here as a happy little family? I mean, how long are we even going to be here? Hours? Weeks? What about food? What are we going to eat?"

"Toasties?" suggested Pod from behind the bar.

"Yeah," agreed Hyle. "We also have a Breville out back."

Cersei began to mockingly wipe a sheen of sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. "Phew, that's okay then!... Oh, _wait,_ WE HAVE NO POWER!"

"We have bar snacks," said Sansa, pointing at the selection of nuts hanging behind the counter in order to cheer Cersei up.

" _Mini cheddars_..." pointed out Pod.

" _Twiglets_..." added Hyle.

"Oooh, what are _Hog lumps?_ " asked Gendry, picking a packet off the wall.

As Jaime's girlfriend let out a derisive laugh at the valiant attempt at creating tantalising food options out of their minimal selection, Euron took over her line of attack. "Oh, as long as we've got nibbles, we're saved! That must be why Jaime dragged us here. Dragged us here and buggered off." That was one step too far for Brienne. Jaime had not _buggered off;_ he had thrown himself into a crowd of zombies armed with only a cosplay sword to provide a distraction that would allow the others a shot at survival. He had done it for all of them and he had done it for her. And these ungrateful bastards were trying to deny that.

"He's coming back," insisted Brienne, her tone biting and as sharp as her cosplay sword. "He _is_ coming back. I know he is."

 _He kissed me on the cheek,_ she thought, her skin tingling at the memory. _It was a promise without words._

While Brienne found herself lost to romantic notions, Cersei just snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "Why do you believe that? Because you _hope_ he will? This is Jaime we are talking about; you know, the guy Bronn managed to convince that dogs can't look up. What makes you think he has anything approaching the skills he would need to survive out there? He's zombie food already, I'm betting, and there's nothing you can do to prevent..."

Incensed at how unpleasant Cersei was being, Brienne had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from getting her claws out. She did not want to hear it, especially from Cersei of all people. Brienne was in no doubt that Jaime was still alive - she would feel it if he wasn't - and she was not going to have Cersei crush the butterfly of hope that was alive in her chest.

"Don't you _dare_ say that about him," Brienne spat, her tone ice cold. "Don't you _dare!_ Have some goddamn faith in him for once in your life. I know you only went out with him because all you saw was the handsome smile and the pretty eyes, and that you loved nothing more than making him feel small and bad about himself as an ego trip, but could you find it in your heart, just _once,_ to believe in him?"

While Brienne found herself red and angry, Cersei just gave her one of her mocking smiles. She always had a way of making it both cutting and beautiful. "Oh god, you poor girl. You really are in love with him, aren't you?"

The silence that followed was so profound that Brienne had to take several gulps of air before she had the strength to break it.

"Pfft, no! Don't be ridiculous!" stammered Brienne, denying Cersei's accusation with everything that she had. "I'm not in _love_ with Jaime."

Even as she felt Sansa's eyes burning into the back of her head, Brienne tried to keep her eyes on Cersei, who was now looking at her with a type of victorious glee. "Oh, you _are_ in love with him. You can't hide it from me. I have eyes."

"Well done," spat Brienne, trying to mask her fear with vindictiveness. "So does everybody. You're not special."

"Oh, I _am_ special," trilled Cersei, flicking her mane of blonde hair over her shoulder, "and that is what has made it so frustrating. I wanted Jaime; I didn't realise by being his girlfriend also meant I had to take on a shambling oaf like you trailing after him giving him puppy dog eyes too."

"I do not..."

"Yes you do, don't deny it," snapped Cersei, dismissing her objections as she would a particularly annoying fly. "Even at the Pod's party where Jaime and me first got together, you were walking around looking like someone had just kicked you, and if you think I didn't notice you stalking Jaime when him and I met at _The Winterfell_ for drinks then you really are stupid."

"That's not true, that..."

"It's all rather ridiculous, really," laughed Cersei, her gaze feeling like a laser on Brienne's skin, "because the poor boy's head over heels for you too, but you've put him so far in the friendzone he gave up all hope and decided to try someone with real class.."

It felt like Cersei had slapped her. "Don't mock me!"

"I'm not mocking you," replied Cersei, complete with an arch of an eyebrow.

"Yes you are!" clapped back Brienne, her voice rising in pitchy irritation. "You think if you twist me up inside enough, I'll agree to you blocking Jaime out!"

As Cersei threw her hands up in the air in something that looked like frustration, Euron interrupted with all the grace of a sledgehammer. "God Almighty. This is getting stupid now! Can we just block up the window and put Brienne out her misery?"

"No!" shouted Brienne, losing her temper with Cersei's stupid game. "You will not block up the window, because Jaime _is_ coming back. I don't care what you think. He is brave and he is quick and he is clever, and he will find a way back to me. He _will,_ because I believe he will. Jaime _will_ come back! So if any of you so much as attempt to block that window up until he is back here, with us, and he is safe, I am warning you, I have a sword and I am not afraid to use it."

"Yeah," came a lilting voice, "don't mess with the Maid of Tarth."

Sansa let out a little gasp as Brienne span around, just in time to see Jaime walk across the room, an easy smile on his face. Before she could stop herself, Brienne dashed towards him. Giving no thought to her dignity, she dropped her sword on the way and threw herself into his arms with the force of an oncoming tornado. 

"Don't you ever do that to me again, you silly man!" she cried, wrapping her body tightly around him so she could feel that he was safe, well, and here with her. Overcome by the smell of him, Brienne buried her face in his neck, loving the prickle of his stubble against her cheek. It let her know that he was alive, and that was all she wanted. If this was the apocalypse, he should be the last human left.

"Wench," Jaime said gently, enveloping her in his arms. "It's okay. I'm here."

"You scared me," she replied honestly, snuffling into his shoulder. "Didn't I tell you I don't like it when you do clever moves and get hurt in the process?"

Brienne could have sworn she felt him smile against her neck. "You did, wench, but I'm not hurt... just a little out of breath. I managed to lose them and then I came in through the back entrance... because it turns out there _is_ a second entrance."

"Still," she huffed, almost laughing in relief. "Don't do it again. I could not stand it."

Jaime sighed and drew her body even closer to his, allowing them both to bathe in the softness, the warmth, and the glow they created together. "Okay, wench, I won't," he mumbled, his breath tickling her neck. "I won't."

They stayed like that - wrapped in each other - for a few more moments, as Brienne ran her hands all over him to check he definitely was real and not some sort of mirage. At her touch, Jaime hummed, and she felt it reverberate in his chest which was pressed so closely up against her own.

It felt so wonderful, that of course Cersei had to ruin it.

"I told you," said Cersei loudly to everyone else in the pub. "I bloody well told you."

Even as she felt the entire Army of the Living staring at her and Jaime, Brienne tried to ignore them. Instead, she shoved down her embarrassment at the fact everyone in the pub now knew she was madly in love with Jaime Lannister and let herself be overwhelmed by relief that he was here, alive, and with her.

 _That's all I want,_ she thought. _Jaime alive, safe, and happy._

_That's all I want._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for reading! More stolen dialogue in this one - well done if you spotted it! If you enjoyed this chapter (or if you didn't), I would love to hear from you in a comment or via kudos :)
> 
> Next chapter... Brienne has to deal with the fact that everyone bar Jaime himself knows that she is totally in love with him...


	12. One Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Army of the Living give some thought on how to defend the pub...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took so long! I have been valiantly battling with this story for some time, so I hope you like this chapter. I have put 16 chapters as the extent of this fic for now, but that may change depending on how it all plays out.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As Brienne's face was still pressed into Jaime's shoulder, she barely heard what Daenerys said when she took control of the situation once more. "Now Jaime's arrived, can we _please_ work on getting the window blocked up? If we leave ourselves exposed for much longer, they could come back."

"I agree," announced Jon as Jaime finally pulled away from Brienne. "Why don't the men go downstairs and check the second entrance that Jaime used to see if that needs barring in some way, while the women stay up here and block up the window?"

"That sounds a good plan," agreed Daenerys, just as Arya made a disgusted noise.

"Are you being sexist?"

Jon rolled his eyes, "no, Arya, I am just trying to create an equitable distribution of labour."

"Oooooh," retorted Arya, making fun of her cousin, "an _equitable distribution of labour._ Well why don't the people this side of me go downstairs and that side of me stay upstairs? Then you won't be attacked by the equalities watchdog."

Everybody laughed at that, but the humour was quickly burst when the man with the burnt face muttered, "I don't think there are any equalities watchdogs anymore."

There was a moment of stillness at that statement, one that suddenly reminded them all where they were; in a frozen pub with no power at the end of the world. Evidently feeling the press of that reality on the room, Melara clapped her hands. "Right everyone, shall we do what Arya suggested and get defending ourselves?"

In spite of the fact that Melara was speaking to everyone in that peppy voice of an overly enthusiastic primary school teacher, her suggestion was eminently sensible, so soon everybody fell into their tasks. Brienne found herself working upstairs to stack up the chairs and alongside the burnt faced man who she learnt was called Sandor, and Jaime, who was doing his best to be irritating.

"Wench," he said slowly, once the three of them had formed a line to pass chairs along. As he was the tallest, Sandor was by the window creating a barricade, while Jaime and Brienne just scouted the area for suitable barricade-making objects.

"What Jaime?"

"Do you really think I'm brave?"

Looking away from the chair she was holding and back towards Jaime, she discovered that he was wearing a teasing smile. "What?" she asked, going a little red at the question.

"Do you really think I'm brave?" he repeated, his smile growing bigger as he asked her again, "because that's what you said when you were valiantly defending me."

Not wanting to answer, Brienne tightened her grip on the chair and handed it to Sandor, and then made some passing comment about best practice when building a barricade to defend yourself from an army of the undead. The burnt faced man grunted in agreement, cutting off the need for conversation, so she was forced to turn back to Jaime. In the few seconds that had passed, she had hoped that Jaime would have moved onto another topic, but he was still looking at her quite intently with those green eyes of his. It made her blush.

"I was just trying to stop them closing up the window," she mumbled. "It didn't really mean anything."

Jaime's teasing smile fell. "Really? You don't think I was being a little bit brave running out into all those zombies to save you?"

"You weren't doing it to save me," said Brienne dismissively, even though part of her longed to tell him it was the bravest thing she had ever seen in her life. Admitting that to him would make her vulnerable, though, and she would not have that. Not with Jaime. "You were doing it to save everybody."

"Yes," he conceded, "but you were the only one I kissed."

 _That_ was too much for Brienne to take. Turning her back on Jaime, she faced the barricade that was being prepared by Sandor and pretended to inspect it, trying to cool the horrible heat that was now taking over her entire body. "Pecked on the cheek," she corrected. "You pecked me on the cheek."

"I didn't have much time," replied Jaime casually, taking a step forward. Brienne felt that motion rather than heard it, because the next second she sensed him inches from her back, and then before she could stop him, Jaime lifted his left hand and rested it on her hip. He was close enough that he could lean forward and whisper in her ear. "When we've finished here, can we go and talk? Someplace quiet? Someplace where it is only the two of us?"

As she could not see his face, Brienne could not tell whether he was being mocking or sincere but, considering it was Jaime, she suspected the former. "Why? What have we got to talk about?"

There was a momentary pause and then Jaime let out a slow breath; it tickled Brienne's ear and made her heart beat faster. "How brave you think I am," he purred in such a way that if came from someone less handsome, less perfect, less _Jaime_ Brienne might think it flirtatious. "And how wonderful I think you are."

"Stop it."

"Why?" Jaime replied, his grip on her hip growing tighter. Brienne almost shivered at the pressure but stopped herself, realising that if she did appear effected, he would _win_ this stupid game he was playing. Therefore, she forced herself to stand up straighter and appear rigid at his touch.

"Because you are talking nonsense, that's why."

Again, there was another moment of silence as Jaime considered what to do next, but then he moved forward once more, taking his hand from Brienne's hip so he could wrap his arm around her waist and pull her close, resting his chin on her shoulder. Brienne felt as if she had just jumped onto a bonfire.

"I am not talking nonsense," he whispered, his lips an inch from her ear. "I ran out into a crowd of zombies today, and it gave me the chance to reflect. I need to speak to you, somewhere privately. Somewhere just the two of us."

When Brienne said no more - words were lost to her now - Jaime lifted up his other arm and put it around her too, locking her against him. If she was any other woman, Brienne may have been enchanted, but as she was Big Ugly Brienne, she felt terrified. Swallowing over and over to stop her mouth going dry, Brienne locked eyes with Sandor, only to discover he was laughing at her knowingly.

 _He thinks I am pathetic,_ she thought, horrified, _that I would pine over someone so out of my league as Jaime._

Wanting to appear strong, Brienne attempted to throw her shoulders back, hoping the new position would shake Jaime off. To her constant terror, however, Jaime just kept holding her, his arms strong and gentle at the same time. "Don't be ridiculous," she spat, sounding a little more venomous than she had intended. "You probably just want to ask me stupid questions about my vibrator again."

At her statement, Jaime squeezed her, momentarily turning the hug into an embrace. "I won't. I promise. I just want to talk. Properly. Truthfully. It's the end of the world and I just want to speak to my best friend, that's all, and tell her what I really feel for her."

 _My best friend,_ thought Brienne sadly, letting the tiniest scrap of hope that resided in her heart die. _I won't let him tell me what a good friend I am on what could be my last day on this world. I want my heart to be whole and complete - unbroken - on the day that I die._

"No, Jaime," she said finally, pulling away from him, shoving his hands away, "I have things to do."

"But..."

"Sandor!" declared Brienne once she had disentangled herself from Jaime, "now we have blocked this up, shall we go and help the others downstairs?"

She expected the grumpy pub-goer to agree instantly, but instead he just flicked his gaze between Jaime and Brienne. There was something in the burnt man's eyes that told Brienne she should look at Jaime, but she was just too afraid. She could not trust herself to hide her feelings for her _best friend_ if she found he looked hurt.

" _Now_ , Sandor!" Brienne ordered, even though she had no right to boss him around at all. "Now!"

When the man made no move to come with her, Brienne just threw her hands up in the air in frustration and turned away from him and Jaime both. She would not be mocked, or laughed at, or ridiculed. And that's all that would happen if she turned around and told Jaime how much he meant to her.

 _I would just get his pity,_ she thought bitterly. _And everyone else would laugh._

Without another word, Brienne went to see who needed her help.

* * *

After everything in the pub was safely secured, Pod and Hyle decided it was best to crack open the beers to take the edge off everyone's nerves. Once the drinks were poured, everybody split up into small groups, chatting quietly amongst themselves, as if this were a normal evening at _The Winterfell_ and not the end of the world. If Brienne had thought to make plans to avoid Jaime, she did not need to, as he went and sat with Hyle and Pod, and the three of them commiserated over beers. As he drank more and more, Jaime just kept his eyes on the bottom of his glass, and Brienne could not help but wonder why. Was there a hint of sadness there? While she kept watching Jaime, Brienne sat next to Sansa and Melara and listened to them talk about nothing. She tried to appear interested, but she just couldn't. The sight of Jaime at the bar was too much to bear, especially considering he was doing a very good impression of an old drunk trying to find the answer to all his problems as the bottom of his glass.

 _I wonder if I am one of those problems,_ Brienne thought.

Eventually, Sansa and Melara got up to play darts.

"Do you want to play, Brienne?" asked Melara sweetly. "I'm not that good, but I warn you, I am willing to cheat."

Brienne tore her eyes away from Jaime for a moment to answer her question. "No, don't worry about me. I am still finishing my drink. You go. Have fun."

As Sansa and Melara left Brienne in order to go and play their game, Brienne once more turned to look at Jaime. She did not understand him. Why did he have to choose today of all days to tell her that she was his best friend? And why had he looked so cut up about her refusal to hear it ever since?

"This beer is quite good, isn't it?" said Catelyn, sitting down in the seat beside Brienne that Sansa had just vacated.

Although she tried her best to stop staring at Jaime - golden, gorgeous, Jaime - Brienne could not quite manage it, so just took a sip of her beer and acknowledged Catelyn's question. "Ah, yes. I think they get it from a local brewer or something."

"Oh, do they?" asked Catelyn. "Well, it is very good."

After that enlightening conversation, silence descended between them, and Brienne went back to looking at Jaime. He was just so easy to look at, _the bastard_ , and Brienne could not help but think how nice it would be if he held her again, like he had in the car or while they were building the barricade.

Even if she was just his friend.

Even if he didn't mean it.

"What Cersei said is true, isn't it?" said Catelyn gently, pulling Brienne back into the moment.

"What did she say?" asked Brienne absentmindedly, her eyes still on the man who casually ruled her heart, without the slightest effort on his part.

"That you are in love with Jaime."

That Catelyn had said it so bluntly made Brienne turn to look at her, her heart in her mouth. "No, it's not..."

"It's okay if it _is_ true," interrupted Catelyn, clearly not having any time for Brienne's unconvincing denial. "He's very handsome, and he seems nice."

Brienne could not help but scoff at that statement. "I'm not sure if you can describe Jaime as _nice,_ " Brienne muttered. "Infuriating. Annoying. Utterly perfect, sure, but not _nice."_

Catelyn let out an affectionate laugh. "Those are the words of someone in love, I think. I used to hold similar sentiments about Ned."

As Catelyn started to go misty-eyed in remembrance, Brienne sighed. She _hated_ that she was so obvious, and that Catelyn could instantly see in her a kindred emotion to what she herself felt for her deceased husband. Fearing she was too easy to read, Brienne tried not to look at Jaime, but it was just so difficult. He was leaning on the bar, chatting to Hyle, and positively _shining_ as he did so. It was just so unfair. Why was he made of stardust and she of clay?

"It doesn't even matter if I love him," said Brienne sadly, turning back to look at Catelyn. "He doesn't love me."

Catelyn raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"Have you seen Jaime?" replied Brienne, trying to keep her voice low lest he heard her from the other side of the room. "He's Jaime, the type of guy who goes out with Cersei; blonde, _beautiful_ Cersei. Not me. Never me. He _can't_ love me because he is him and I am me... it is impossible. He just sees me as a friend."

Catelyn narrowed her eyes, looking at Brienne as if she thought she was wilfully ignoring one of the big pieces of the puzzle. "But Cersei said you were a threat. It came out of her own mouth."

Brienne could not help but shake her head dismissively. "Cersei is a raging psycho who loves stirring things up for the thrill of it. She sees Jaime as a toy - she always has done - so I'm sure she would take great pleasure in giving me hope where there is none."

"I think you are wrong there," mused Catelyn, her voice almost tender. "There is always hope."

"You sound like Sansa," smiled Brienne sadly, remembering the talk she and her best friend had had in their kitchen before the end of the world. It felt such a long time ago now. "She's been saying for ages that I should just tell him."

"She's right."

Brienne snorted in a kind of sad amusement. "No she's not. I have my self-respect. I have my dignity..."

"What is self-respect and dignity at the end of the world?" asked Catelyn, as if she was genuinely searching for the answer. "You only have one life, one chance. Maybe you should use yours to tell Jaime you love him."

Even though Brienne thought there was a grain of truth in Catelyn's idea - the zombie apocalypse probably did mean they were all running out of time - the idea that Brienne would use the few grains of the hourglass she had left to tell Jaime how she felt was preposterous. Completely impossible. "I don't want to spend my last day on earth being laughed at," she confessed, looking down at her hands; her big, mannish hands. They would look so ridiculous running through Jaime's perfect hair, caressing his cheek, or holding his hand. It was almost obscene. "I respect him too much to let him pity me."

"But what if you didn't get pity?" inquired Catelyn. "What if you get everything you have ever dreamed of? What if he kissed you?"

At Catelyn's final question, Brienne's eyes drifted once more to Jaime - distant, loveable, wonderful Jaime - and felt her heart fall. "Then I would know that I had died, because that could only happen in a dream."

Perhaps sensing that Brienne had been locked in a sense of resigned despair about these feelings for quite some time, which Cersei had just cruelly revealed to everyone in the packed pub, Catelyn reached out and took her hand. "I think you are being too hard on yourself. You might have a chance with Jaime, if only you allowed it."

Rolling her eyes, Brienne gave Catelyn a nudge. "Now you really sound like Sansa. Now you... oh, what's the matter?" The moment Brienne's elbow had connected with Catelyn, she had flinched. Suddenly, Brienne noticed she was looking a little pale. "Cat, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," replied Catelyn unconvincingly. Brienne narrowed her eyes at her and watched the way she tried to draw her left arm close to her chest. Eyeing it suspiciously, Brienne reached out and took Catelyn's wrist in her hand, which only made her wince.

"Are you sure?" asked Brienne.

"I... I... I..."

The blush rising up Catelyn's cheeks told Brienne that there was definitely something to be worried about. Going as carefully as she could, Brienne peeled back the sleeve of Catelyn's jacket, revealing what she most dreaded. Her wrist was swollen and red, with a horrible cut that looked suspicious like a bite mark oozing pus. She had clearly been bitten by one of the undead and Brienne knew that, before long, she would go the way that Petyr and Ramsay had done.

She would become a zombie.

Looking back into Catelyn's eyes, Brienne expected to see fear, but instead she saw a determined resolve that could not be shattered by ice or fire. "Petyr did it when we were trapped in the car. I didn't want to say anything. I thought Sansa would be worried."

"Catelyn..." began Brienne, horror dawning on her at what this meant.

To Brienne's surprise, Catelyn did not try and keep her quiet, but instead shook her head and gave her an almost motherly look. "Remember, Brienne. Life is too short to keep it a secret that you love someone."

"Catelyn!" gasped Brienne, more forcefully this time. "You can't still be talking about Jaime. Not now. Not when..."

"Tell him," instructed Catelyn, her blue eyes wide. "You'll forever regret if you don't."

"But..."

"And one more thing," continued Catelyn, her gaze turning to her two daughters who were in the pub with her, full of all the love she held for them. "When the time comes, do the right thing. I don't want to be one of _them_. I don't want to hurt anyone."

A knot of dread began to tie itself in Brienne's stomach, tighter and more uncomfortable than she ever thought possible. "But Cat..."

"Promise me, Brienne," said Catelyn, clearly wanting Brienne to make a solemn vow. "Do it for Sansa. Do it for Jaime. Do it for everyone in here. When the time comes, do the right thing."

Even though Catelyn was staring at Brienne imploringly, she wanted to refuse. She only LARPed as the Maid of Tarth; she could not actually slay zombies, or fight evil, or do what was difficult but right when the time came. Her refusal was on the tip of her tongue. But then her eyes drifted to Jaime, still talking to Hyle and Pod, and she remembered the conversation she had had with him back at Catelyn's house.

 _And what if the worst happens?_ he had asked, eyes bright and fearful. _What if one of us turns?_

She had answered glibly at the time, not suspecting that this could truly happen. _Then we would do what needs to be done. Bash my head in the second I come back a monster, because I would hate to think that I had ever had a hand in hurting you._

Just at that moment, Jaime noticed that Brienne was looking at him. His green eyes went wide for a moment, but then he smiled at her and she could have sworn she saw the sun come up. It almost seemed like an apology. Given everything Catelyn had just told her, Brienne looked away, unable to face the beautiful, painful reality of him at that moment. Even so, just one glance from him gave Brienne all the strength she needed.

"I promise, Catelyn," she said quietly. "I promise I will do the right thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a tiny Big Cop II reference in this one, so well done if you spotted it!
> 
> As ever, I love to hear what you think, so please consider leaving comments or kudos :)
> 
> Next time... Brienne faces up to doing the right thing...


	13. Woman Without Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne considers the promise she made to Catelyn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back for this chapter guys. I can't believe how near the end we are. There is a tiny bit of stolen dialogue in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it...

After making Catelyn a terrible promise, Brienne found she could barely sit still. She spent the next hour flitting between all the different people packed into the dimly-lit pub, talking about nothing; Melara waffled on about auditions, Sam about LARPing, and Jorah unrequited love. As the last topic hit too close to home, Brienne moved away from him, trying to keep Catelyn's words from ringing in her ears.

_Promise me, Brienne. Do it for Sansa. Do it for Jaime. Do it for everyone in here. When the time comes, do the right thing._

Making sure to avoid Jaime, who was still hanging with Hyle and Pod by the bar, Brienne began to pace the room, trying to keep her nerves at bay. She picked up _Oathkeeper,_ finding something comforting in the familiar weight of her LARPing sword. However, at that moment, she looked back across the bar to see Catelyn going to sit with Sansa at the table next to Jaime, Hyle, and Pod. As she kept the bite well hidden, there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. She was still Catelyn.

 _I have to do the right thing,_ Brienne told herself, before looking down at her sword. Jaime had given her _Oathkeeper_ for Christmas and in her sillier moments she liked to imagine it was a magic sword gifted to her by the god of love. It was a precious thing and one of her most treasured possessions. Even if killing Catelyn was the right thing, she would not do it with _Oathkeeper._ Her sword was her heart and she feared it would break if she tainted it with a real death.

Consequently, Brienne went in search of the only other weapons in _The Winterfell;_ three hunting rifles called Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal.

Daenerys had the three of them lined up on a table near the door, which she was guarding with the glee of a dragon hording gold. Therefore, when Brienne approached her, she tried to appear casual. "Your guns are cool," she said, giving Daenerys a tight smile. "It was clever to think to bring them."

Daenerys shrugged, but looked pleased at the compliment. "I go to the shooting range on the weekends. I have a license. It seemed the sensible thing to do."

"Are they loaded?" asked Brienne, feigning nonchalance. Daenerys did not seem to suspect anything, however, and just seemed proud to be talking about her firearm babies.

"Yes. I didn't know when I might need them. But it doesn't matter, because one of the cardinal rules of shooting is you always treat your gun like it is loaded; don't play silly buggers, don't point it at anyone's face, and don't have your finger anywhere near the trigger unless you mean to shoot."

Glad she had Daenerys engaged in this conversation, Brienne continued with her casual tone. "So, if you want to do some damage, do you just pick the rifle up, cock it, and fire?"

"Something like that," replied Daenerys with a wry grin, "although most people just cock their guns for dramatic effect in the movies. These babies are ready to go."

Daenerys' promise reverberated around Brienne's head as she looked down at the three guns. Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal really were works of art in a cold, clinical, deadly sort of way. Brienne could see why Daenerys treasured them. They had nothing on the beautiful sentiment that sat behind _Oathkeeper,_ of course, but they were definitely to be feared.

 _I'll do it with one of them,_ Brienne told herself. _When the time comes, I'll use one of..._

Just then, there was a cry and a thud that caused everyone to look round. Catelyn had fallen from her chair to the floor, her face pale and her brow covered with sweat. Brienne's stomach dropped through the floor.

_I thought I had more time..._

"Mum?" cried Sansa when she saw what had happened, immediately perching down next to Catelyn to have a closer look. Given the commotion, other people also gathered around her, including Jaime, Hyle, and Pod who all got up from their bar stools to assist. "Mum, are you alright?" asked Sansa, trying to pull Catelyn up into a seated position.

Her eyelids were fluttering open and closed. Brienne could not help but think she was almost gone.

_Promise me, Brienne..._

Before Brienne even had time to think, time to make what she was trying to say more palatable, the awful truth was falling out of her mouth. "Sansa, get away from her. You know what this is."

Even though Jaime shot Brienne a confused look, everyone else just ignored her and continued to fret over Catelyn. "Mum, what is it?" asked Sansa, pressing the back of her hand against her mother's head to check for a temperature.

At Sansa's touch, Catelyn looked at her daughter, her face pale and her eyes wide, but still every bit Catelyn Stark. "I am sorry Sansa," she said quietly, before rolling up her sleeve to reveal the bite. "I did not want to be a bother."

On seeing the great swollen infection at Catelyn's wrist, Sansa let out a horrified gasp, but she still did not move away. "Mum! How did this happen? When did this...?"

"In the car. It was Petyr," confessed Catelyn, her voice filled with sadness, regret, guilt and a hundred other emotions. "I didn't want you worry."

At that statement, Sansa let out a desperate whine which only succeeded in summoning Arya, who pushed past Cersei and Euron to get a closer look. "What is the matter?" she asked, leaning over Sansa to look at Catelyn.

"She's been bitten!" cried Sansa, "she was bitten by Petyr!"

"That bastard," hissed Arya, reaching out and seizing her Mum's wrist in order to get a proper look at the injury. "I never liked him."

Sensing that everyone was too busy getting wrapped up in losing Catelyn and not considering that the person in front of them would not be _Catelyn_ for much longer, Brienne tried to interject the facts of the matter once more. "Guys, you know what is going to happen..."

"Euron, can you fix this?" cried Sansa desperately, turning to look at the fake doctor. A little alarmed at being put on the spot once more, Euron shook his head and held up his hands in surrender.

"I can't," he cried, his earlier irritation at his profession being derided bubbling to the surface, "I'm not some magic pirate wizard with powers to control the dead. I'm a lecturer in biomedical sciences."

"Then what is the point of you?" thundered Arya, fitting him with a venomous glare that made him wilt.

At Euron's abdication of responsibility, Brienne tried once more. "Guys, you need to get away from..."

"What is happening?" asked Jon, bowling across the room with Daenerys at his side. "What's the matter with Catelyn?"

"Mum's hurt!" wailed Sansa, tears coming to her eyes.

"I know first aid!" volunteered Daenerys.

"So do I!" chimed in Gendry.

As the conversation then descended into a hubbub of panicked worrying and offers of first aid, Brienne knew she had little choice. Appreciating that everyone was distracted by Catelyn and Sansa's crying, Brienne began to lean across the table on which Daenerys had placed her babies; Drogon, Viserion, and Rhaegal. While Jorah and Sam started soliloquising on the benefits of cutting the bit of infected skin off Catelyn's wrist, Brienne ran her hand over Daenerys' rifles, Catelyn's words reverberating around her head.

_Promise me, Brienne. Do it for Sansa. Do it for Jaime. Do it for everyone in here. When the time comes, do the right thing._

"Sansa, Arya..." came Catelyn's voice over the tumult, weak and feeble. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't say sorry," sniffed Sansa, unable to stop the tears from falling. "You are going to be fine, just fine. You'll see..."

_Promise me, Brienne._

As Sansa's crying grew heavier, Brienne traced her fingers over Drogon. She wondered whether it would suit, but eventually decided the gun was too big and unwieldy for her to use, not when she was a novice. She had a similar problem with Viserion and she sensed it would be sensitive if she picked it up. Rhaegal on the other hand was the perfect size to fit against her shoulder if she had to do this, and was light enough not to feel a burden when she held it in her arms.

 _I must do this,_ Brienne thought, reaching out to pick up Rhaegal. Just as her fingers closed around the barrel of the gun, there was a shout from the other side of the room. "Mum!" sobbed Sansa as all the colour drained from Catelyn's face, "no! No! No!"

Looking up from Rhaegal, Brienne saw that Catelyn had slumped back and was convulsing, her whole body twitching. Sansa had grasped hold of her Mum's shoulders in her desperation, while Arya had sunk to knees and was grabbing at her mother's hands, pulling at her as if she could shake her back to life. In spite of their tears and the grief, Brienne knew there was nothing else to be done. She had to fulfil the oath she had made to Catelyn.

Picking up Rhaegal, Brienne cocked the gun for dramatic effect and pointed it at the woman who used to be Catelyn.

At the sound, Jaime snapped his head around and, discovering that his best friend was wielding a rifle, confusion flooded his face. "What are you doing, wench?"

Following his question everyone in the room, who were mostly gathered around Catelyn, Sansa, and Arya, turned to gaze at Brienne with a mixture of expressions. Jon was wide-eyed. Daenerys stunned. Yet it was Sansa who Brienne could not look at; their enraged horror made her feel like a traitor.

Swallowing, Brienne tried to appear calm. "You all know what is happening. Euron can't do anything to save her. None of us can do anything. You know what we've got to do."

"No!" shouted Arya, suddenly angry. "We've still got time. We've still got..."

"She's going to come back," insisted Brienne, still pointing the gun straight between Catelyn's eyes. "She's going to come back as one of _them._ "

"She's not gone anywhere!" yelled Sansa, tears now rolling down her face.

Even though her heart broke for her friend, Brienne had to remember her promise. "She's going to change."

"She's my Mum!" sobbed Sansa, her voice cracking on the final word.

Knowing that was no longer true, Brienne declared, "she's a zombie. Just like Ramsay. Just like Petyr. I _have_ to do this."

And then, as if to prove a point, the woman who used to be Catelyn sat up, her eyes an unearthly blue. Most of the people gathered around her had the good sense to leap back, especially when she jumped out and lunged for the person nearest to her with the speed of a predator. As the gods were cruel and capricious creatures, that person was of course Jaime. With Pod and Hyle boxing him in from behind, Jaime had nowhere to move, meaning that Catelyn could wrap her fingers around his throat before he had time to move.

Her terror rising furiously in her chest at the sight of Jaime being choked, Brienne shouted, "get off him!"

At her order, the woman who used to be Catelyn turned to look at Brienne. As she expected, her eyes were blue and cold and although they were filled with death, a strange sense of knowing still lingered within.

 _She's taunting me,_ thought Brienne, horrified. _There's something in there that is still Catelyn, and she knows what I feel for Jaime._

Barely able to keep her nerve, Brienne gave the gun a threatening shove, trying to appear braver than she was. "I said _get off him!"_

To no one's surprise, Not-Catelyn did not listen to Brienne's demands and kept her hand on Jaime's throat. It was clear he could not breathe as he was desperately clawing at the zombie's arm trying to get free and the made Brienne feel like her heart was ripping in two. There would be nothing more awful in the entire world than losing Jaime. Even so, Brienne still found it difficult to pull the trigger and end this; partly because the zombie used to be Catelyn, but mostly because of Sansa's tear-stained despair.

"Put the gun down, Brienne!" cried Sansa. "You are pointing it at my Mum!"

As Jaime started to turn red, Brienne caressed the trigger. "That's not your mum anymore," she cried, using her fear and tremulous courage to justify herself. "She's changed and will kill us all if I don't stop her..."

Sansa did not seem to understand that rationale, however, and decided to lodge it in purely emotional terms; terms that were revealing and revelatory.

"You wouldn't even be thinking about shooting my Mum if it wasn't Jaime that she had a hold of!" shouted Sansa accusingly. "You would be trying to talk her down... you would be trying to find another way, but because it is _him_ you've forgotten everything else... everything else that is important."

"I told you," added Cersei nastily from the back, but Brienne ignored her, because all she could see was Jaime.

Jaime choking.

Jaime purpling.

Jaime, with Catelyn's hand around his throat.

_Jaime._

Not waiting a moment more, Brienne closed her eyes and pushed her finger down on the trigger with all the force she could muster. After the ear-drum bursting shot had ricocheted around the room, a frozen silence permeated the space. Brienne opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Jaime gasping as the zombie's fingers loosened from his throat, followed by him staggering back into Podrick and Hyle, who were standing behind him. Brienne had clearly aimed well, as there was a tell-tale dark red circle in the zombie's forehead where the bullet had entered her skull. The shot had also launched a spray of blood onto those around Catelyn, meaning that Arya, Sansa, and even Jaime himself had been splattered with blood.

 _I am a murderer,_ Brienne thought, the idea blacking out anything else as she dropped the gun to the floor. _I am a murderer._

"Mum!" screamed Sansa, dropping to the floor beside her mother's body, which in the dim light looked like a broken ragdoll. At Sansa's heartbroken wail, other members of the Stark family gathered around, shielding what Brienne had done from her view. It was a small mercy, because Brienne could hardly bare to see what effect she had had on Sansa, Arya, and their extended little family. Closing her eyes, she tried to block out everything other than the sound of Daenerys' voice.

"Sansa... _Sansa_... look at me... I can't begin to imagine how hard this must be for you, but we can't afford to fall apart."

Jon's voice was hoarse when he added to his girlfriend's sentiment. "We've got to stick together. Those _things_ are probably still outside, and we can't afford to lose ourselves."

"Yes," added Jorah, "we've got to stay strong. We've got to..."

As everyone huddled around Sansa and Arya, offering them comfort and consolation, Brienne stepped back, tears brimming in her eyes. She tried to remember that she had done the right thing, that this wasn't something hateful, but merely saving Catelyn from becoming one of _them_ and hurting people she loved in life.

 _I am not a murderer,_ Brienne told herself. _I did not kill Catelyn, she was already dead, she was already..._

Nobody seemed to care about her reasons, however, as everyone was too busy comforting Sansa and Arya. Consequently, Brienne tried to block everyone out, retreating into herself in order to deny the actions of her own hands and of her own heart. In fact, she only truly remembered she was in a pub surrounded by people and not lost in her own darkness when she felt a heavy hand on the small of her back. Blinking to dispel her tears, she saw Jaime looking at her sadly, his face still splattered with blood.

"Jaime," she said quietly, her tone soft, "you are covered in blood."

Wide-eyed and still shocked, he did not say anything to that, but neither did he object when she pulled the sleeve of her jumper over the base of her hand and began to wipe the spots of blood off his handsome face. As she did so, Jaime's sad expression softened, and for a brief moment Brienne wondered if he was leaning into her touch as her hand moved over his skin.

The moment broke a few seconds later, however, when she finished cleaning him. Dropped her hand from his face, she looked back down at the floor, to the gun she had used to kill Catelyn. Brienne intended to stay fixated on the sight, not wanting to face anyone in the pub, but then she felt some warm fingers catch under her chin and tilt her face back up. Jaime's green eyes - full of thanks and gratitude - were too much for her in that moment and the instant she looked into them, Brienne burst into tears.

"Don't cry, wench," he ordered, pulling her into tight embrace, "please don't cry."

Leaning against him, unable to resist his heat and his warmth, Brienne wrapped her arms around him, and promptly defied his command to sob into his shoulder. "Why not? I _killed_ Catelyn."

"You did not," he said firmly, passionately, as he ran his left hand up and down her back and round and round in soothing circles. "Catelyn was already dead. All you did was save me."

"But Sansa will hate me forever!" sniffed Brienne, unable to look up from the perfect point where his neck met his shoulder that seemed to have been designed for her to rest her head against. "She'll never forgive me, she'll never..."

"Shhhhh," said Jaime soothingly, "of course she will. She'll come around. You did the right thing."

Unfortunately, Sansa picked that moment to let out a despairing wail from over the other side of the room, so loud it could have woken the dead. Brienne had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't be come around any time soon. At that small set back in his plan to convince Brienne to stop her crying, Jaime pulled back and made her look at him once more.

"Eventually she will see the bigger picture, when her grief has passed."

Jaime's ardent promise caused Brienne to gaze at Sansa, who was still weeping over her mother's body. Arya was at her side, her arms around her sister. The sight made Brienne want to cry once more, because she did not know how to make it better. In fact, all she knew how to feel was a terrible shame that it was she who had made this mess... _she_ who had shot Catelyn... _she_ who had...

Brienne was just about to sink into a well of guilt and panic when Jaime interrupted her guilt with a question that made her feel positively sick.

"Wench," he said softly, "what did Sansa mean?"

"About what?" asked Brienne nervously, fearing he was going to ask her about what Sansa had shouted when she was trying to persuade Brienne not to fire her gun.

In response, Jaime's green eyes fixed on her so intently that Brienne thought she might faint. "That you wouldn't have shot Catelyn if it was anyone else that she had hold of other than me. What did she mean?"

For a moment, Brienne considered telling him the truth. They were standing at the end of the world in a dingy, cold pub without any power. Surely, if there was any place to tell him the truth, it was here. After all, if she was rejected, she could always be arranged to be bitten by a zombie to escape the ignominy.

_It means I love you Jaime, and I always have._

"I..."

"Hey, can anyone hear that?" came Euron's voice from the other side of the pub, interrupting Brienne's attempted declaration, ringing out over Sansa's sobs and Jaime's questions.

Daenerys furrowed her brows. "Hear what?"

At her question, Euron held a hand up, silencing everyone in the pub. With everyone quiet, it was possible to hear what he was referring to; from outside, there was a low, vocalised moan, almost like a drone. It was long and continuous, and the sound chilled Brienne's blood. There was no mistaking what that sound was, and it seemed nobody wished to say the truth. Therefore, in the end, it took a person with a kind of stubborn courage to successfully answer Euron's question.

Jon.

"It's the dead... and they're outside."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading. As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of comments or kudos!
> 
> Next chapter... The Dead arrive at The Winterfell...


	14. The Battle of The Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The living make their stand against the dead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, so... this is a big chapter. As you can probably tell, I have stolen a little bit of dialogue from both 8x03 and the film with this one, so I hope you enjoy! Just a warning with this chapter; read the archive warnings. You have been warned. Also there is a brief mention of suicide in this chapter.
> 
> ... in spite of all that, I hope you enjoy!

_No,_ Brienne thought, horrified. _They can't be here now. We were meant to find refuge here. We were meant to be safe._

Nevertheless, there was no mistaking what Jon and Euron had heard. The drone from outside was a chorus of hundreds of zombie voices, clamouring for fresh meat. At the sound, Sansa and Arya both stood up, turning away from Catelyn and towards the door. Melara's eyes went wide in panic.

"Oh god," mumbled Melara, her voice the only sound other than the drone. "They're outside! What are we going to do?"

At her question, everyone turned to Jon and Daenerys, looking for leadership. While Jon seemed to be thinking things through, Daenerys tried to offer some reassurance. "It is okay, perhaps they haven't noticed..."

She never got to finish her sentence, however, as at that moment there was an almighty crash, and the pile of chairs that were blocking up the hole in the window shook thoroughly, toppling several of them. Brienne's sadness that had been pressing down on her since Catelyn's death was suddenly overtaken by a terror that reached the bone.

"Shit!" cried Cersei. "What are we going to do? How do we keep the breach blocked?"

Sandor let out an amused grunt. "We don't. They probably outnumber us fifty to one. They're going to have that pulled down in ten seconds flat. We've just got to make sure we are armed."

Of course, Cersei tried to twist that suggestion into something else. "EVERY MAN AND WOMAN FOR THEMSELVES!" she shouted, running across the room to grab one of the toppled chairs and snap off one of its broken legs.

Even though Brienne did not think that was a very sensible suggestion, everybody else seemed to agree and leapt into action. Daenerys and Jon picked up Drogon and Viserion respectively, while Euron swiped the abandoned Rhaegal as his weapon of choice. Jorah wielded Sam's LARPing sword, _Heartsbane,_ as if he had been born to bear it, while Sam and Gilly both had baseball bats for good measure. Gendry had a rather large hammer he had clearly found in some toolbox, while Arya had a kitchen knife that could double as a dagger. Pod and Hyle were smashing bottles behind the bar to turn into sharp weapons, as Sansa and Melara became shakily reacquainted with their rolling pin and hockey stick. Sandor grabbed a cue from the pool table, while Brienne made sure she and Jaime were once again armed with _Oathkeeper_ and _Widow's Wail._

Once everyone was armed, Brienne raised her voice. "We need to work together," she announced, countering Cersei's earlier point, even as the pile of chairs shook once more and more began to topple. "We need to defend the breach for as long as possible!"

"That's a good idea!" shouted Daenerys over the chorus of zombie cries, which was getting louder and louder with every passing moment. "Jon, Euron, and I will hold them off with my babies for as long as possible. Once we run out of ammo, it will be up to everyone else to..."

CRASH!

Just at that moment, everyone span around in horror as the other window, the window they were not looking at, was smashed open by a legion of the blank-eyed dead. Unfortunately, Euron, who was standing closest to the window with his back to it, was seized from behind by several of the dead and in his shock let go of Rhaegal. "HELP!" he screamed, as he was pulled backwards into the hungry crowd, who were on him with their strong hands, tearing into him as easily as if he were a piece of chicken about to be put into some pasta.

"LET GO OF HIM YOU BASTARDS!" screamed Cersei, seizing hold of Euron's leg as Jon and Daenerys tried to take some pot shots over her head. Melara was joining in not long after, but it was no use, as the zombies were too much for Euron's body to take. In a feast of blood and gore, they ripped him open as he screamed, while Cersei and Melara both got splattered with a fountain of blood.

"Euron!" cried Melara, as his left leg became detached from the rest of him, leaving Cersei clutching his severed leg in one hand. As Cersei and Melara had lost their grip on him, Euron (or his body) disappeared into the swell of feasting zombies, to become nothing but the appetizer in their hunger for everyone else in the pub.

Cersei did not seem to see it that way, as she had suddenly gone very red in the face. "They can't fucking do this to us, Melara!" she growled, dropping Euron's leg before turning her eyes to the front door, "they can't fucking do this to us!"

And without another word, Cersei began to run towards bolted door, Melara running in her wake. It took a few seconds, but Sam eventually put together what she was trying to do.

"THERE'S NO GOOD DOING A CAVALRY CHARGE OUT INTO THE MIDDLE OF A HUGE CROWD OF ZOMBIES WHEN THEY CAN JUST OUTFLANK YOU!" bellowed Sam, clearly well versed in all the medieval battle strategy he read up on for when he needed to write the scenarios that they used in LARPing. "You can't just open the..."

"Cersei! Don't!" called Jaime, working out at the exact same time as Sam what his ex-girlfriend intended to do.

However, it was too late. Armed with a chair leg and a hockey stick, Cersei and Melara unbolted the door and went charging out into the crowd of zombies, clearly determined to avenge their housemate in a war waged with the only most meagre of resources.

The last thing Brienne saw of Cersei before she was swallowed up by a crowd of zombies was her triumphant, almost manic face as she screamed. "DIE BITCHES! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I'M FUCKING CERSEI, BITCH, AND I'M GOING TO TAKE YOU DOWN!"

That she did not succeed in taking them down, however, became apparent when a great zombie horror horde swarmed through the door, all dead-eyes and hungry mouths. "Oh dear," said Gilly, very quietly as the dead piled into the room, the floodgates opening, as the air became alive with the sound of shots fired by Jon and Daenerys, and the screams of everyone else.

"Oh shit!" cried Jaime, raising his sword aloft, followed immediately by Brienne. With the dead coming from two directions, it was very difficult to try and work out what way they should be fighting, especially when everyone closest to the door came running back towards them, terror in their eyes.

"STAND YOUR GROUND!" shouted Brienne as Pod dashed by, before stopping to position himself beside her, his broken bottle raised.

And then the dead were upon them. In a smash of bodies and bone, the zombies launched themselves at the survivors. Some were better at defending themselves than others; Sandor cut as formidable figure as he bashed multiple zombie heads in, while Arya was surprising nippy with her kitchen knife. Even though they were all giving it everything they had, Brienne was forced to wonder if there really was any hope. The zombies were all around her, bearing down on her, covering her until she saw nothing but blackness and their ripping, tearing teeth. However, quite suddenly, there was light again, as there was a slash of a sword and Jaime came cutting through them armed with _Widow's Wail._

"Get up, wench!" he ordered as Brienne pulled herself to her feet, him keeping them off with his sword all the while. "We've got a battle to fight!"

It was true, they did, and once they were again back to back, Brienne felt it. No longer plain old Brienne Tarth who worked a boring job selling fridges, she was now the Maid of Tarth armed with her magical sword, gifted to her by Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, so she could protect _The Winterfell_ against the Army of the Dead. Even though she knew she should be terrified, the part of Brienne that was a LARPer was phenomenally happy; she was getting to fight in a real battle, alongside Jaime. They worked together side by side, _Widow's Wail_ making up for where _Oathkeeper_ lacked, and vice versa. Once, Jaime slipped to one side in order to fight, and she swung her sword past him, right through where he once stood, in order to protect his back. When a particularly feral looking zombie tried to climb on Jaime's back, Brienne beheaded it before it got the chance to hurt him.

 _No one gets to bite Jaime,_ thought Brienne furiously as she sliced through bone and undead flesh, _except perhaps me, and only in my fantasy sexual scenario._

Brienne was momentary lost to thoughts of Jaime after the fight, perhaps injured, taking comfort in her arms, but then a shout ripped through the air. "We're out of bullets!" cried Daenerys, turning her gun around so she could use the but as a weapon. Even though she was trying her best, Brienne's heart fell. They were out of long range weapons. It was now going to have to be hand to hand all the way to the end.

"FALL BACK!" shouted Brienne to those around her. It seemed that they might be able to defend themselves from behind the bar, especially as there was a corridor that led away to the cellar and the upstairs. Perhaps there was the best place to make their last stand. However, everyone else clearly did not hear her. Gendry was too busy screaming as he whacked people with his hammer, while Jorah was getting beaten down to his knees as he desperately tried to keep using _Heartsbane_ to protect Daenerys. In fact, only Jaime seemed to be conscious of her plan, as the two of them dashed behind the bar, swords still held aloft, as they valiantly tried to fight off each new swarm that entered _The Winterfell._

"It is no good!" shouted Jaime, swinging _Widow's Wail_ in front of Brienne to stop her getting torn apart by a pair of identical twin zombies. "We are going to have to retreat!"

"Where?" groaned Brienne, swiping at another zombie that came perilously close.

Jaime took a few seconds to answer, as he was busy bashing a zombie's head in with the hilt of his sword, but when he responded his tone was desperate. "The cellar. There might be a way out through one of those trap door things."

"What about upstairs?" asked Brienne, her breathing staggered.

"Do you fancy jumping from a window?"

"No."

"Then let’s go to the cellar. Everyone always knows that the crypts are the safest place to hide in any castle."

Before she could find the words to agree, Jaime grabbed her hand and yanked her back into the corridor behind the bar. Craning her head, Brienne got a last look at the pub before Jaime pulled her down the stairs; Sandor was cowering in a corner, horrified by one of the curtains that was now on fire. Pod and Hyle had been backed into a wall and were valiantly swinging around their broken bottles in an attempt to defend themselves. Sam was sitting on Catelyn's dead body, just crying. Jon was for some inexplicable reason screaming at the zombies, barely making any attempt to defend himself. In contrast, Gendry was swinging around his hammer with all the strength of He-Man. Sansa and Arya were together, furiously trying to beat the zombies back with their limited weapons. Gilly was hiding under the pool table, while Daenerys was cradling a very dead Jorah in her arms, weeping with her head thrown back. Part of Brienne wanted to go rushing back in to help, but then she heard Jaime's voice, strong and authoritative.

"There is nothing we can do," he said resolutely, before pulling her towards the cellar. "We need to get down there! Now!"

Knowing there was nothing else to do, Brienne took one last look back at everyone else still valiantly fighting, and followed Jaime down into the cellar, slamming the door behind her. It was so dark down there that it took her a few moments for her to adjust, and when she did, she realised there was no trap door. It was as if they were already in the Underworld. It was as if they were already dead.

And if they were going to have any chance at surviving, they were going to have to bury themselves alive.

* * *

After the last of the furniture was stacked against the door, their last line of defence against the approaching zombie army, Brienne turned to Jaime, feeling an intractable weight pressing against her chest. "So that's that then," she mumbled, loosening her grip on _Oathkeeper._ "We're trapped."

Sensing her doleful mood, Jaime gave her a weak smile and tried to cheer her up. "Let's go to _The Winterfell._ Who the fuck came up with that idea?"

"I think it was you," replied Brienne, a half smile curling across her lips.

"Oh yeah," he laughed sadly. "It was me. I really ballsed this up."

Brienne furrowed her brow at him; Jaime could be so self-deprecating sometimes. "No you haven't. You tried your best; you shouldn't feel so responsible. You tried. You did something. That's what counts. God knows where we'd be if you hadn't."

To her surprise, Jaime blushed at that and reached out and took her hand. "I wasn't just me. It was you too. Together."

Brienne bit her lip at the compliment, and was then going to squeeze his hand back, but then the door shook violently, causing her to jump and let go of him. "Do you think they'll get through?"

The door shook again. Jaime nodded. "Yes."

"At least we have our swords," said Brienne, the bleak reality finally dawning on her.

Jaime's expression hardened suddenly, as if he was trying to think of a plan. "I suppose if they get in, we could fight them off if we stood back to back, and try to remember everything we learnt on that _Sword Fighting for Beginners_ class we took while LARPing."

It was clear Jaime wasn't understanding her, so she tried to reinforce the point, making her tone sombre in order to do so. "I wasn't thinking about using the swords on the zombies."

Jaime looked up at her, his green eyes filled with fear, before shaking his head. "Wouldn't it be better if we just drink ourselves to death?" he said, pointing out all the boxes of liquor stacked around the room. "That sounds much more fun than pulling a Mark Antony."

"I'm not sure we have the time."

Trying not to look at her, Jaime ran his hand over a couple of bottles of tequila packed in a box and the went to sit down by the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest as he put _Widow's Wail_ down by his side. Even though she felt sad and somewhat resigned to her fate, Brienne went and sat down beside him, still resolutely gripping onto _Oathkeeper._

"How are we going to do this?" asked Brienne, looking down at _Oathkeeper_ and _Widow's Wail_ both _._ She never thought two thoughtful Christmas gifts would end up being used this way.

Jaime shrugged. "This is so stupid, but if we are seriously going to have this conversation, I would suggest that one of us has to go first, because it is a bit hard to kill someone when you are already dead."

At his recommendation, Brienne picked _Oathkeeper_ up and weighed it in her hand. "Maybe one of us has to do the other and the do themselves," she said, turning the hilt in her hand, "but... thinking about it... maybe you should do me first. I'll only muck it up if I have to do myself."

Even though it was a semi-serious suggestion, Jaime snorted with laughter. "Wench, I'd be only too happy to do you, or watch you do yourself, but only if it doesn't involve swords or death."

Brienne gave him a dismissive look at that risqué suggestion. "Jaime, be serious."

"What if I _am_ being serious?" Jaime replied, all hint of humour dropping from his face, his laughter dying. It made Brienne feel very uncomfortable.

She looked down at _Oathkeeper_ quite insistently and when she spoke, her tongue was sharp. "You are not being serious, so just _stop_."

"Brienne..."

"What about that drink?" she said loudly, leaping to her feet and marching towards one of the crates of alcohol. "Didn't you say we should drink ourselves to death? What have we got down here?"

"Brienne..." Jaime whined again, his tone turning imploring, but she ignored him in favour of rifling around in search of something alcoholic to drink.

"Tequila? Whiskey? Ooooh, there's some Scorpion down here, let's try some of that," she said with fake cheer, before coming to sit back down next to Jaime again, uncorking it so she definitely did not have look at him. For some inexplicable reason, at that, Jaime looked a little hurt, so Brienne gave him an overly sunny smile. "So, do you fancy a swig?"

He gave her a pained grimace. "The last time I drank Scorpion, I think I was at an eighteenth birthday party. We were playing _Never Have I Ever."_

"Well we are not playing _Never Have I Ever_ now," she told him imperiously.

"Why not?" he replied. "It is the end of the world and we are stuck in a cellar. We've got to do _something,_ wench, to pass the time."

"Well not _Never Have I Ever,"_ she said grumpily.

Jaime ignored that, laughed, and then proceeded with the game anyway. "Never have I ever crushed on a gay guy," he smirked, looking at her pointedly.

Brienne could not feel a little sullen at that statement, because Jaime _knew_ she had once crushed on a gay guy. Brienne had been convinced that her fellow LARPer Renly and she were meant to be together, and she even convinced Sam to let her play his bodyguard for a while. It had all ended in tears, however, when Jaime told her Renly was gay. Not believing him, she had asked him to go to Gilly's birthday party with her. Unfortunately, Renly was going with Loras, so Brienne had ended up crying and letting Jaime hug her and say there was someone out there for her, if only she opened her eyes.

Although he had been sweet on the night, Jaime had never let her live it down, so after she took a guilty swig of drink, she came right back at him. "Never have I ever bought my girlfriend a super expensive bracelet that she then had to immediately return because it was too big for her tiny little wrist."

"I thought Cersei's wrists were bigger!" squawked Jaime. "I thought she was stronger than that!"

"Well, she wasn't," grinned Brienne teased, "so you have to drink."

Jaime took a begrudging sip of the Scorpion at that, before parrying back with another question. "Never have I ever stood someone up because I would rather go and look after my sick bestie." Brienne took another swig of Scorpion. She was not ashamed; it wasn't like it was going to last with Connington anyway, and Jaime had been very, very sick with an advanced strain of man flu. Brienne had had little choice.

Not liking that she was bringing her romantic life so far into this stupid game, Brienne came back at him. "Never have I ever got drunk and asked my bestie to save me from a nightclub because I was kicked out for being too far gone," teased Brienne, knowing full well that she had had to rescue Jaime from the backstreets at midnight multiple times.

As he took the Scorpion off her and had another swig, his expression turned cutting. Raising his eyebrows at her, he smirked, "never have I ever refused to tell my bestie what my vibrator is called."

At the resurrection of that conversation, Brienne stared at him for a moment, taking in his perfect teasing mouth and his mocking green eyes. In her eyes, Jaime Lannister was perfect, even though he thought this was a joke; that her _feelings_ were a joke. Yet even here at the end of the world, where there were zombies at the door and they were sharing a bottle of Scorpion, she still loved him endlessly. It annoyed her, in all honesty, how Jaime could wind her up so well and yet she remained so implacably in love with him. There was even a small part of her that considered telling him the truth; after all, if this was a rom-com, this would be the point for the lead to tell the love interest how she felt. Unfortunately, Brienne Tarth was neither lead nor love interest and far too much of a coward to tell him, so she took a sip of her drink and averted his gaze. In response, Jaime rolled his eyes.

"Come on, wench," smiled Jaime teasingly, equal parts amused and annoyed at her avoidance as he took the bottle from her, "if we're going to die down here, I want to know what your vibrator is called."

"Why is it that important to you?" asked Brienne stiffly, folding her arms across her chest in an attempt to protect herself and bottle her irritation inside.

"Because it's a mystery and I _love_ mysteries," Jaime smirked. "So, I know it's named after someone you are in love with. Oooh, what about Mr Goodwin at work?"

That was laughable, "no, of course not."

"Hyle the barman has always fancied you. Is it called Hyle?'

"No," countered Brienne, going redder and redder with every question, "it's not Hyle..."

"What about Jon? I know you _love_ a pretty boy, and Jon is very pretty..."

"Jaime, please stop..."

"Oh! What about Tormund! He likes you; a big girl like you..."

"Just shut up Jaime, please!"

At her begging, Jaime let out a burst of laughter that verged on the cruel, "come on, wench, just tell me! What is your vibrator called? Why is it such big a deal? Why...?"

"Jaime, just leave it..."

"No! I've got to know! I don't know why you are so secretive about this! It's just a name, it's just..."

"Jaime, be quiet..."

"No! You are being so ridiculous about this!" he countered; his voice suddenly filled with irritation. "Just tell me! There is so much we do not say, that if you just went first and told me..."

Perhaps it was his tone, perhaps him accusingly saying there was so much they did not say, or even that she was scared and cold and thought she was going to die. Either way, there was something about Jaime's half mocking, half imploring look that made Brienne tip over the edge - equal parts irrational anger that he was pushing her to this and pure unbridled terror - unable to keep silent anymore.

"It's called Jaime!" she shouted, her fear and terror finally making her snap. "It's called Jaime, okay! Are you fucking happy?"

A silence fell, so heavy that Brienne felt like she was being crushed. She did not know what she was expecting from him. Horror. Disgust. Pity. Brienne thought that however Jaime chose to react, the combination of emotions on his face would be so heart breaking that she would rather throw herself into a crowd of zombies armed with only a cosplay sword than face him. Therefore, she was quite taken back when he broke into the broadest, sunniest, most Jaime grin she had ever seen and cupped her face with his hands, causing his plaster cast to collide with her cheek almost painfully. However, all thought of her bruise quickly vanished with what he said next.

"Happy?" Jaime laughed, his eyes bright. "Of course I'm fucking happy! I love you too, wench, and I've been trying to tell you for _years_."

"What...?"

And then before she knew what was happening Jaime pulled her face towards his and crashed his lips against hers, wrapping his arms around her as he did so. Shocked, Brienne remained limp, even as he rearranged the way he was sitting so he could press his chest into hers and then suck at her bottom lip coaxingly.

 _WHAT THE FUCK?!?!_ her brain roared at her, even as she began to kiss him back and run her hands through his hair. _WHAT IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING?!?!_

But it soon became very clear what was happening when Jaime slipped his tongue inside her mouth, tasting very much of Scorpion and _Jaime._ At this strange invasion, Brienne let out a satisfied little groan and then met his tongue with hers, determined to equal him beat for beat. The new contact sent a spark through her body that lead her to grasp at his hair tightly, causing Jaime to moan into her mouth.

 _Oh,_ she thought, melting into him as he ran his hands up and down her back, while kissing her and kissing her into acquiescence. _This is what is happening. Jaime and me._

_Of course._

_At last._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnndddd I hope you enjoyed that! It was so much fun to write given the endless pining, so I hope you are satisfied. Next chapter may be making a stop at smut city central, so I hope you come back for that. I would love to hear what you thought in a comment or kudos... I really appreciate each and every one.
> 
> Next chapter... Jaime and Brienne discuss their feelings, and do other stuff...


	15. The Arms of the Woman He Loves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Brienne confront their feelings in the cellar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back! I am sorry this has taken so long; I got a bit carried away with Baby Mama. This chapter is basically entirely full of my crappy smut, so I hope it is not too bad. I have also put the rating up just in case. Please let me know what you think in a lovely comment or with kudos!

_Oh,_ Brienne thought distantly as she let Jaime kiss her and kiss her and kiss her, _I never suspected that reality might be better than the fantasy._

As they kissed, Jaime's tongue sought out hers, and he tilted his head in order to have better access to her mouth. He ran one hand up and down her back, while bringing the other to her face so he could stroke her cheek, soft and tender even as he was making her burn with the strength of his kisses. It was wonderful, but strangely terrifying at the same time, and her heart was beating so fast it was as she had just ran a marathon. As it was almost too much, it eventually made Brienne pull away. From this new vantage point, she discovered Jaime's cheeks were flushed and his eyes spellbound, as if he were living the dream too.

"Don't stop," he pouted, before leaning forward again. "Kiss me, wench. I've wanted you to kiss me for such a long time."

In spite of Jaime's ardent tone, Brienne's mind was whirling with too many confused thoughts to oblige him immediately, so she put a hand on his chest, holding him back. Jaime looked a little disappointed, but that only made Brienne more curious.

 _How does any of this make sense?_ she thought. _Jaime kissing me? Saying he loves me? How can any of this be real?_

Given her confusion, she it took some time to find the words, going slowly in order not to upset him. "Jaime... I know this is the end of the world and everything, but you don't have to be compelled to give me some kind of pity kiss just to make me feel better."

"Pity kiss?" gawped Jaime, his eyes going very wide. "This isn't a pity kiss!"

Brienne furrowed her brow in bafflement. "Then what is it?"

"It is a _I-really-want-to-kiss-you-and-I-have-like-forever_ kiss," said Jaime, wearing his familiar cocky smile. "Is that alright? Can we go back to kissing now?"

He leant in again to try and continue their kiss, but Brienne put her hand up and pressed two fingers to his lips, setting him pouting again. "But... how?" asked Brienne, utterly baffled. "You don't want to kiss me."

Then it was Jaime's turn to look confused. "Of course I do!" he insisted, before cupping her cheek with his hand. "Why on earth would you think I wouldn't?"

"Because you love Cersei," she replied quickly, her mind going to the blonde-probably-dead menace who Jaime had previously enjoyed having very loud sex with back at the flat. "She used to be all over you. I used to... to... _hear_ you together on the other side of my bedroom wall. You've never even looked at me once because you always wanted her."

At that utterance, Jaime shook his head so vehemently Brienne was surprised it did not fall off, and he then cupped her face with his hands, locking her into his gaze. "I look at you all the time, every day," he admitted, his voice impassioned. "Cersei is nothing compared to what I feel for you."

Brienne blinked, barely able to believe it. "But... at Pod's party, when you and Cersei got together... you were wearing that stupid jumper because you wanted to use your mistletoe powers on her."

"I wanted to use them on _you,_ " he insisted in response, moving his face closer to hers in such a way that she became quite entranced by his lips. "But you left me alone with Cersei, and then she was just all over me, so my drunk mind thought it would be a good idea to get it on with her in an attempt to make you jealous." Brienne's mouth opened in shock. If it wasn't for the zombie apocalypse, Brienne would have thought she was trapped in her wildest dream. Jaime... _had wanted to kiss her at Pod's Christmas Party?_

"Well it bloody worked!" squawked Brienne, part infuriated and part amused that Jaime Lannister of all people thought he had to make her jealous to get her to notice him. "Every time you brought her round and the two of you went at it in your room, I would go and lay on my bed and wish it were me in there with you."

A blush rose in Jaime's cheeks - happy, smug, perhaps aroused - and then he leant his forehead against Brienne, his lips close enough only for whispering, sharing breaths, and kissing. "And I would lay there in my bed thinking of you the other side of the wall, wondering what you would do if I just walked right in and lay down beside you, if I wrapped my arms around you, if I kissed you and held you and _fucked_ you like I've wanted to do for so long," he growled, his desire palpable in his voice. Quite suddenly his tone turned, strangely imploring. "What would you have done, Brienne? What would you have done if I had?"

It was quite miraculous how well Brienne's fantasies had unknowingly aligned with Jaime's, all the while being completely oblivious to his feelings. Even so, Brienne found she did not have the words to describe what she would have done if Jaime really had crept into her room and just taken her in the way that she long dreamed he would. Gasped in disbelief? Cried with joy? Sang? Suddenly losing the ability to speak English, Brienne decided to tell him what she wished she had done by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. As she parted his lips with her tongue, she wasted no time in straddling him and Jaime let out an appreciative groan as she did so. And then it turned into something akin to the fights they used to have while LARPing - him the arrogant Kingslayer, her the upstanding Maid of Tarth - but instead of scrapping, parrying, and hitting, they were pulling at each other’s clothes with a desperation that was almost unseemly. Without her telling him to, Jaime began to tug at her jumper, while she fumbled with his zip on his trousers.

 _God, this is really happening,_ she mused in wonder.

Brienne had not been aware it was a race, but Jaime was seemingly thankful when she won, as she snaked her hand down the front of his trousers and grasped his hard and ready cock like the hilt of a sword. The second she touched him, Jaime let out a satisfied gasp, which turned into an animalistic moan as she began to move her hand up and down his shaft. The sight of him wanting and desperate in her hand made an overwhelming heat begin to pool in her belly, which only grew when Jaime eventually succeeded in getting her jumper off and buried his face in her neck.

"God," Brienne whispered into his ear when his hand reached her breast, plucking, pinching and caressing her nipple, while she continued to rub him until he was so hard he was leaking. Kneeling awkwardly in front of her, Jaime began to thrust into her hand, and Brienne squeezed him appreciatively, turning her wrist to give him the friction he needed.

"Too much," he mumbled eventually, his whole face flushed with desire. "Let me touch you."

Eager, Brienne pulled away from him, stood up, and began to shirk off her own clothes, until she was totally naked in front of him. Still knelt on the floor in front of her, Jaime looked up at her with those big green eyes of his, wide and hungry. Although his desire shone out of him, the second their eyes met, an old fear overcame Brienne.

 _Am I too big?_ she wondered. _Too ugly? Does he want a beautiful woman like Cersei? Does he want...?_

"Stop worrying," Jaime commanded, his voice hoarse. "I can see you worrying."

"I'm not..." she began, even as her body betrayed her. Flushing guiltily, Brienne made an effort to cover herself, but Jaime knocked her hand away.

"None of that. I want to see you."

Breathing deeply, Brienne forced herself to stick her hands to her side like a soldier in a drill, allowing Jaime to see her in her entirety. For a moment, she was worried he would be disgusted, but his eyes were alight with desire and he bit his bottom lip in anticipation. Swallowing, Brienne wondered whether she should make the first move, but then Jaime surged forward and pressed an almost reverent kiss to her mound. As Brienne gasped with pleasure, Jaime grasped at her hips to hold her still, before kissing her again right _there_ as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She continued to feel his care and affection for her when Jaime drew back and looked up at her, his green eyes shining. It appeared he wanted to worship her.

However, Brienne did not want to play any games. She wanted Jaime now.

"Take your clothes off," she instructed, like a commander drilling her men. Perhaps there was something in her tone, but Jaime obeyed at once, his eagerness betrayed by his lack of snarky comments. His shirt, jeans, shoes, and socks were all discarded quickly, so Brienne only had a few moments to rake her eyes over his perfect body before her gaze faltered at the obvious bulge in his boxers.

"Like what you see?" asked Jaime teasingly. "Because you can have a closer... oh!"

Without another word, Brienne marched forward and pulled his underwear over his hips, leaving them to pool to the floor at his feet. His momentary surprise at her boldness passed quickly, as then Jaime kicked his boxers away and looked up at her expectantly. With Jaime naked and beautiful in front of her, the animal part of Brienne's brain was working out how best to throw him down and take him. However, her civilised mind had other ideas. "We can't do it on the floor," she insisted, looking down at the cold tiles. "Can we make a nest or something?"

Given the size of his bobbing erection, Brienne was surprised that Jaime had enough wherewithal to think rationally. "If my wench wants a sex nest, she shall have a sex nest," smiled Jaime, which set Brienne off laughing. She then watched as she walked around the cellar, pulling multiple cushions off garden chairs and a plastic tablecloth off a bench in order to build a very adequate sex nest for them to do the deed on.

Once it was complete, Brienne laid down on it, pulling Jaime down with her. Still laughing at the fact that she and Jaime were going to do it on some cushions in a zombie-threatened cellar, Brienne was therefore surprised when Jaime's expression seemed a little regretful. "I'm sorry this is not a bed strewn with rose petals," he said breathily, his green eyes bright. "I'm sorry this is not after a date at a fancy restaurant, a romantic movie, and me giving your flowers. I am sorry it has to be like this."

Brienne smiled at him, marvelling in his sweetness. "I am not sorry," she breathed, opening her legs in a way that encouraged him get between them, "because it's you. I've wanted you for so long, that I am just glad this is happening."

It was strange how innocent Jaime looked when she had him cradled between her thighs while she lay on the floor of a pub cellar, with the air dank and damp around them. As she felt her arousal build, Brienne rolled her hips encouragingly, which caused Jaime to hold his cock and line himself up at her entrance. Suddenly conscious of her body's overwhelming need to have him inside her, Brienne was therefore impatient when Jaime met her gaze, his eyes momentarily clouded with doubt. "Wench, if this is too soon... too quick... I can stop."

"No!" replied Brienne, cupping her hand around the back of his neck so she could pull him close and rest her forehead against hers. The gap between them was so small that she could almost see every fleck of green in his eyes. "I want this. I want this so much."

"But we don't have any protection," he said concernedly. At any other time, Brienne would have found his concern sweet, but right at that moment it felt like a tease when he was so close to finally burying himself inside her.

"I don't _care_ ," Brienne moaned, her voice breaking on the final word. "It's the end of the damn world and I want you inside me, Jaime. I want you to fuck me, I want you to come inside me. Please, Jaime. _Please."_

Brienne was worried that with that admission she would come across as desperate or too needy, but Jaime just looked at her with such starlight in his eyes that it only felt natural for him to slide into her with utmost care, as if she was some expensive porcelain he was scared would break. Knowing the he knew how strong she was, Brienne was somewhat surprised when Jaime looked back up at her tentatively, searching for confirmation that this was what she truly wanted. Unable to answer him with words, Brienne ran her hands down Jaime's back - feeling every muscle and angle as she did so - until she grabbed his backside aggressively, trying to push him inside her. It was an instruction to move.

Jaime obeyed at once. Although his first thrust was slow and almost reverent, he soon found his rhythm, especially when Brienne wrapped her legs around him, crushing his thighs in an effort to get him closer, deeper, nearer. Her desire seemed to spur Jaime on, and in his hunger for her he leant down and kissed her breasts, nipping and sucking. Gasping at the joint assault of his cock and his lips, Brienne arched her back and pulled him closer, taking out her frustrations by messing up his perfect hair.

"Jaime," she moaned as her excitement built, leading her closer and closer to where she wanted to go. "I've wanted you so long. I've wanted..."

She never got to say what she wanted, however, as Jaime moved from her breasts to her lips and kissed her furiously, so hard it almost hurt. With his tongue in her mouth and his cock in her cunt, Brienne felt consumed by him, lost in pleasure but found by him. Entirely safe. Wrapping her arms around him, Brienne longed to hold him as she came, which only drew nearer when Jaime reached down between them and began to touch where they joined.

"Come with me, wench," he growled, his green eyes flashing. "Come around my cock. I want to fucking feel you. I love you. I love..."

Those words were too much, and they pushed her over the edge of the precipice, as hard and fast as if she had fallen off a horse. Crying out loud as a spasm of joy overtook her, Brienne grasped at him as tight as she could as her vision was blurred by all the stars in the sky. Jaime followed not long after, his thrusts becoming erratic and irregular before she felt a hot jet rush inside of her. It only succeeded in stoking the fire inside her once again, so fast she felt like she was burning.

Overcome by sheer pleasure, Brienne was barely conscious of Jaime moving, but continued to hold onto him as he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, as the feeling slowly started to subside. It seemed so amazing that he could be so tender with her, even as he pulled out of her and slumped down beside her, his breath still shuddering. He looked completely exhausted. "Fuck me, wench," Jaime sighed, as she rolled over and pulled him close, "that was amazing."

Her breath slowing, Brienne turned his face towards her so she could kiss him, and then pulled the tablecloth up over the both of them to keep off the draft. "Calm down tiger, I will again in a minute. I just want a moment. I am knackered."

He let out a huff of laughter at that statement, and then gazed at her with hungry eyes as he bent down to kiss her. As Jaime kissed her, making it long, languorous, and loving, Brienne could feel his smile against her lips, but when he eventually pulled back his expression was altogether softer.

"I love you, wench," he whispered, his words only for her.

Tears came to her eyes. Brienne had thought she would never hear that from Jaime, not outside her dreams, but now there was something horribly bittersweet about the fact it had taken them until the end of the road to be able to say it. Wanting to touch him, Brienne ran one finger down the centre of Jaime's face; from his forehead, down his nose, across his lips, and then journey past his chin and down his neck. Even now, even here at the end of the world, he was beautiful.

"We've wasted so much time," Brienne said quietly, her eyes filling with tears. If only she had been sure of her worth before now, she and Jaime could have been together for years.

_Years and years._

To her surprise, Jaime did not look regretful. After giving her a small smile, he leant forward and placed a tender kiss on her swollen lips, before brushing her hair out of her eyes. "At least we had this moment," he said, looking at her with all the feeling he clearly longed to show her across a long lifetime. "At least we have now."

They made the most of now.

Wrapped up together, they stayed entwined, naked body against naked body, until Jaime was ready to go again. This time, Brienne climbed on top of him, bending down to kiss him as she rode him furiously, until he came and nearly rolled his eyes back into his head with the pleasure of it. Lying on top of him, Brienne kissed him and kissed him, wanting to use the few moments they had left together to tell him how much she loved him, how much she would _always_ love him, even if...

Death came for them eventually. It was the low drone of voices that alerted them to the zombies outside. As soon as he heard them, Jaime pressed one more slow, lingering kiss to Brienne's lips before getting up and reaching for his clothes. She scrambled after him, and by the time they were both dressed the sound of the enemy throwing themselves against the door had turned into a loud percussion, a terrifying drumbeat heralding the end.

Jaime picked up _Oathkeeper_ and gave it to Brienne. "There you go, wench," he said, his familiar crooked smile not enough to hide his fear. "It is only right the Maid of Tarth have her sword."

In return, she handed him _Widow's Wail._ "And the Kingslayer his."

There was a huge smash against the door, and the furniture stacked up in front of it began to shake. A stab of fear shot through her heart, so she turned to Jaime, searching for bravery, courage, or just his particular brand of bravado that might help her get through. Instead, she found his expression was filled with sadness.

"I love you, Brienne."

She answered instantly. "I love you too, Jaime."

As he gave her a half smile full of regrets, Brienne longed to reach out and kiss him, to make him feel brave in turn. She had so many hopes, so many wishes, so many dreams of what could be. However, they were out of time.

For then the dead came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Thanks for reading! I hope you come back for the last chapter.
> 
> Next time... The Dawn of the Dead...


	16. Zombies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dawn of the Dead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, so the last chapter! Thanks to everyone who has read this tremendously silly story, I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As ever, there is a tiny bit of stolen dialogue in this one, so well done if you spotted it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think in a lovely comment!

It was a strange thing being dead.

Brienne had heard so many theories about what came after life; heaven and hell, eternal reincarnation, purgatory, nirvana, or an endless inescapable blackness. However, once she was actually dead, she discovered that, mostly, it was more of the same. She was still hungry - this time for human flesh rather than McDonalds - but the ravenous feeling at the pit of her stomach was identical. Furthermore, she still liked the feel of the sun on her face, the wind whistling through her hair, the smell of the salt sea breeze.

And she still loved Jaime... because _of course_ she still loved Jaime _._

When the zombie horror horde had finally broken into their little cellar sanctuary, Brienne had done all she could to keep them away from him. In her desperate desire to protect the man she loved, Brienne had burnt so brightly with righteous fury that for a transient moment, she truly had felt like the warrior Maid of Tarth, valiantly trying to defend her knight. Unfortunately, it was not enough, and the only blessing was that she went first, so she did not have to see Jaime change.

As it turned out, the Kingslayer and his wench were not the only ones forever altered. When a squadron of the British Army stormed _The Winterfell_ later, they found most of the army of the living had joined the army of the dead, apart from Sansa, Pod, Arya, and Gendry, who had managed to barricade themselves in the upstairs bathroom until help arrived. The four survivors stayed there in isolation while the army passed through, giving all the newly zombified people vaccines, which quelled their insatiable hunger for human flesh and made them a little bit more mellow.

Brienne had thought that, once they were deemed safe, she and Jaime would have been released. However, the army was taking precautions so, instead, the zombies had then been herded into a van and shuttled off to a quarantine centre, where they were separated and then extensively monitored to doubly make sure they were not a danger to the public. Brienne wanted to scream that she wouldn't hurt anyone, that she just wanted to see Jaime, to see her friends, to make sure everyone was alright. But, as she was now one of the undead, she had no human rights, so was locked in a cold dark room all alone, with only thoughts of Jaime for company.

Luckily for her, Brienne had people who cared about her, so eventually Sansa came to rescue her, claiming that she would look after her old housemates back in civilian life.

"They've had the vaccine, right?" Sansa said, more a statement than a question. "So they'll be fine. I'll take them home and, once they are back in their own house, everything will be alright. I just know it."

Brienne tried to nod, but she knew the surly army officer who had to fill out the paperwork would only interpret that gesture as a random twitch without meaning. Consequently, Brienne had to abandon the argument to Sansa, crossing her fingers that her friend could persuade him. She wanted normalcy. Sure, other zombies on entering the civilian world once more would be much more revolutionary - Cersei would become the first zombie supermodel, Melara the first zombie to play a lead actress in a daytime soap, Euron would test zombie vaccines on himself - but Brienne did not want all those things.

She wanted home. She wanted her friends. She wanted Jaime.

A simple life. Or a simple death, one or the other.

Brienne was eventually able to see him again when the army officer let Sansa take the both of them home, on the condition she kept both of them chained until they got back to the flat. Consequently, Brienne found herself shoved in the back of Gendry's huge band van with Jaime, while their four nervous human rescuers sat in the front.

"What if they try to eat us?" asked Gendry quietly, almost as if he were scared that Jaime or Brienne would try to attack him if he verbally provoked them.

Arya shrugged. "We'll do what we have to do. If this zombie apocalypse has taught us anything, it is that we have to make the hard choices."

Brienne wanted to tell them that there was going to be nothing difficult about this, but she could not, because she was a zombie and her voice box was not working. Therefore, she just gazed at Jaime who was tied up on the other side of the van from her, staring back at her with an equally imploring look.

When they arrived back at the flat, Arya and Pod decided the best thing to do was count to three before they undid the ties that bound their captive friends.

"Are we going on three or on go?" asked Pod, biting his lip nervously.

"What does it matter?" huffed Arya. "We're just going to release them."

After a little more sniping and disagreeing, the four living humans decided that Jaime and Brienne would be released together on the word _three._ As Gendry started the count, Sansa looked somewhat awkward and took a step back, way out of arms reach of the two zombies. However, she need not have worried, as neither Jaime nor Brienne had any intention to eat their friends' brains. Instead, the moment they were released, they moved as one, wrapping their arms around each other as tightly as they could. Not wasting a second more, Brienne pulled Jaime in for a kiss, and even though it was sloppy and unrefined in comparison to the ones they had shared in _The Winterfell_ cellar, it still set her dead heart aflame.

At the sight of them entwined, Sansa, Pod, Arya, and Gendry exchanged concerned looks. Pod furrowed his brow. "What are they doing?"

"Are they trying to eat each other?" asked Gendry, horrified.

"No," replied Sansa, her voice almost tender. "I think they're... _kissing._ "

Not caring what she looked like, Brienne pulled away from Jaime's kiss and then buried her face in his neck. They had not touched for months, not since those brief stolen moments they had been afforded in _The Winterfell_ cellar before they died. Therefore, Brienne wanted to make the most of every second she had with him. Luckily for her, it seemed Jaime returned that sentiment, as he squeezed her against him with everything he had.

Enveloped in Jaime's arms, Brienne could only feel Sansa, Pod, Arya, and Gendry's stares rather than see them. She thought that was for the good, as they felt quite sceptical, and Brienne did not have the means to defend herself.

"Do you think it is still them?" asked Arya confusedly, staring at Sansa's housemates with narrowed eyes. "Do you think there is still enough of them in there that they are still Jaime and Brienne?" At her sister's question, Sansa stepped closer to have a closer look. Pod held his hand up in warning, but Sansa ignored it, and copied her sister in surveying her zombified housemates carefully.

Brienne did not move. She wanted to say so many things to Sansa; sorry about Cat, that she was glad she survived, and to thank her for not being angry. However, the most important thing Brienne felt she needed was to explain was that she was still herself, just at a step removed. Hidden behind a curtain. Pushed beyond a veil. Furthermore, she wanted to explain that Jaime was also still here, because if you looked very closely, you could still see him behind his newly blue eyes.

He was, after all, unmistakeable.

In spite of her desperation to tell Sansa the truth, Brienne knew it was impossible, as on becoming a zombie she had lost her ability to speak. Fortunately, however, it seemed Sansa could work it out for herself. "I think it is them," she said quietly, watching both Jaime and Brienne with careful, discerning eyes. "This is what they both wanted to do in life... be together... so maybe in death they finally found the courage."

Knowing Sansa was right - she _did_ now have the courage to love Jaime openly and completely - Brienne kept her arms around the zombie she loved while Pod, Sansa, Arya, and Gendry uneasily moved into the flat and went in search of food. As Sansa rustled up a selection of snacks _,_ Pod and Gendry sat down on the sofa, while Arya put the TV on, and began to flick through the channels.

"... these beings, these creatures or to use the correct scientific terminology... zombies, posed the greatest threat..."

"... it's a testament to the combined forces of the military that law and order was restored. Of course we now realise that that the phenomenon resulted from the use of..."

"... next we'll hear the story of ten year old Shireen Baratheon, who fought off the reanimated corpses of her extended family. It's all coming right up on our special report... _Zombies from Hell..._ "

"... of course the fact that the mobile deceased still have primal instincts and trace cognitive thought..."

"... makes them ideal recruitment for the service industry..."

"... people say it's wrong, but he's still my husband, y'know? I still love him, still got the ring on my finger..."

If she had her voice, Brienne would have asked Arya to stay on that last channel. From the few words she heard, it was evident that a woman who loved a zombie was being interviewed, and Brienne wanted to hear what she had to say. All things considered, it was similar to what she was feeling.

Pulling back from Jaime's embrace, she lifted a hand and cupped his cheek. She thought he was smiling, but it was difficult to tell since in his zombified state he had lost full control of his facial muscles. His skin was also icy to touch. However, Brienne did not flinch away. This was the man she loved, after all; she wanted to make sure he could feel all her devotion, even though she had lost the ability to tell him with words. She would _always_ love him. After all, Brienne thought that if the Buddhists were right and reincarnation was real, and she saw Jaime in a thousand different lives - as a police officer, an ex-soldier, a runner, a boxer, a music manager, a zombie - she would love him in each and every one.

Because he was Jaime and she was Brienne, and that was what they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that's it! I think this is a happy ending for them, as everyone who "died" gets to live on as zombies, as Jaime and Brienne get to be together. I hope you did not find that too bittersweet (I know my usage of that word has sometimes been controversial), so let me know what you think in a comment or with kudos!
> 
> You may have noticed a tiny weeny little clue to the next Ice Cream Anthology fic I am planning. Well done if you spotted it! For a further clue, I will say that Simon Pegg plays a rather secondary role in that film, and Martin Freeman instead plays the main. I hope you look out for that when I eventually get round to writing it :)


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